Clara Dawson
by Rory4
Summary: ON HOLD. When Rose found out she was pregnant, she kept the baby - a little girl. Now, nearly fifteen years later, both their lives are about to change forever...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**: **_Hey, guys. I decided to rewrite a few of my chapters for this story. There aren't any major changes, except for something I added on at the end._**

**Disclaimer:_ I don't own a thing Titanic._**

**Chapter One**

"_Come Josephine on my flying machine, and it's up she goes, up she goes…"_

I sang silently to myself, lying on the bench in our backyard, staring up into the starry night sky. I did this almost every night; it was my own little tradition.

_"Up she goes, up she goes..._ _"_

For as long as I could remember, my mother had sung that song to me. When I was a small baby, it had been the only comforting thing in a world that was so unstable. Back then, she had merely been a waitress trying to support herself and a small infant. By some miracle, she had become an actress. We weren't as rich as King Midas, but we were comfortable. And most importantly, we were happy.

_"Come Josephine on my flying machine..."_

Years ago, I had asked her where she had heard our song. Why had she chosen it, out of millions of other songs, to be ours? And she'd told me, a faraway look in her eyes, that my father had once sung it to her. Now whenever the words left my lips, I would think of him. What had he looked like; sounded like? Would he have loved me? As I lost myself in the stars, I knew I would never have answers to any of my questions. My father had died before I was even born. I would never know him.

All my mother would tell me about his death was that he had died in a terrible tragedy. That told me nothing. I would never get the answers I craved from her, and I knew it. From the little bit she'd told me about him, however, my father sounded like a great man. That knowledge would have to satisfy me. At least he hadn't been some sort of criminal, right?

_"Up she goes..."_

When I sang to the sky like this, in a way I think I was trying to talk to him. He was up there somewhere, looking down at me, even though I couldn't see him. And that, in a way, brought me closer to the man I longed to know; to see. I sighed and stood up. It was time to call it a night; I was tired.

"How were the stars tonight?" My mother; my beautiful mother. There she was, sitting at the kitchen counter, looking over her lines for her next play, and smiling at me.

I smiled back. "They were brighter than usual."

"Your father used to look at the stars, too, you know."

My heart stopped its beating for a moment. The times my mother spoke about my father were rare, but everytime she did, I absorbed every little word I could about him.

Not wanting the conversation to end, I asked, "He did?"

Her smile turned a little sad. "Yes, he did. He used to tell me it showed him just what he had to be thankful for."

"I know what he meant," I said, my voice breaking. So, I had something else in common with him, did I?

There was silence after that, as if neither she nor I knew what else to say. So I told her I was heading upstairs.

"Goodnight, darling."

When I got into my room, I plopped down on my bed and grabbed my photo album. I opened it and began to look at the pictures. My eyes rested on one of my mother and I together. I looked just like her, everyone told me. I _did_ in fact have her loose face framing waves, and body stature. But, my eyes were different. They weren't a blue-green like her own, but a bright, clear blue. My father's eyes. And instead of fiery red, my hair was a bright golden red. My father had been a blond. I took the picture out and held it in my hand. On the back I knew it read _Clara and Rose Dawson, 1927._

As I moved to put the album away, something fell to the floor. I looked down and smiled. It was an envelope, and I knew just what was in it. An early birthday card from Daniel. Daniel was a rather handsome seventeen-year-old boy, with light brown hair and vivid green eyes. He was one of my best friends. He must have left the card here just before going home earlier in the day. Strangely enough, I would get another card from him on the day of my birthday, which wasn't for four more weeks. I laughed to myself. What could I say? That was just Danny. Personally, I thought it was rather sweet.

As I settled into bed, I thought about my upcoming fifteenth birthday. I was supposed to have been born in January, but my mother had had complications with her pregnancy she refused to tell me about, and I'd been born five months early, on September twelfth. I shoudn't even be alive, but by some absolute miracle, and it _was_ a miracle, I was. For all I knew, I could have possibly been the only very premature baby in history to have ever survived. My existence was impossible, yet here I was, looking forward to my upcoming party. I _really_ couldn't wait, but I had a strange feeling that the upcoming year was going to bring along with it a lot of changes.

**A/n: I know, five months early is a bit farfetched, but you'll find out the reason for it later in the story.**

**Love,**

**Rory**


	2. Chapter 2

**Clara Dawson**

**A/N:_ Hey, second chapter rewritten completely. Please, let the next one be a little better than this one was!_**

**Chapter Two**

The next morning, I woke up early and got dressed. My friend Amelia and I were going to go shopping, just her and I. It had been something we'd been planning for weeks. Amelia was another one of my best friends. She, Daniel and I had grown up together. I had other friends from school as well, but no one would ever compare to my two best friends. No one.

After I had gotten ready, I went down stairs for a quick breakfast. My mother was already awake and dressed. "Good Morning sweetheart, how are you?"

"Morning, mother. Actually, I'm excited. Amelia and I are going shopping today, remember?"

"That's right. What are you planning to get?" Just as I was about to say something, I heard a horn outside.

I jumped up from my seat, and ran upstairs, breakfast forgotten. "That's Amelia; I have to get my sketch pad!"

Sketching was something I had been doing since I was old enough to walk. I was just getting into drawing landscapes; usually people and animals and the like were more my thing. My life long dream was to attend a college for art, and that's just precisely what I planned to do someday.

Meanwhile, I just drew what ever happened to hold my attention for more than a moment. I raced down the stairs in record time, and darted out the door, shouting a farewell to my mother over my shoulder.

"Good-bye darling!" She called after me.

& & &

"Hello Clara," Amelia said, as I climbed into the back-seat of her father's car.

"Hello there, Amelia. Hello, Mr. Smith."

"Clara, hello. How are you today?" Her father replied, a brilliant smile on his round and flushed face.

"I'm fine thanks, and you?"

"I'm well. So girls, I'll drop you off in town and pick you up at sun set. How does that sound?"

"That sounds perfect," Amelia said, rolling her eyes. I just smiled. She was lucky to have such a warm man for a father. When we arrived in town, we climbed out of the car with more farewells and promises to be careful, and headed off to our first store.

Much to my dismay, it took searching more than a few boutiques till we finally found what we were looking for. It felt wonderful to finally relax; I had been so tense these past few weeks worrying that we would never find it in time.

"Do you like this dress?" I asked, a hint of anxious hope in my voice.

"Clara!" Amelia exclaimed, pure excitement in her tone, making my shoulders sag in relief, good posture forgotten in my need to let out the breath I'd been holding. "That is _definitely_ the one. It's absolutely beautiful!"

I nodded my head and grinned, ecstatic. "Amelia, my friend, I agree!"

& & &

After a few more hours of merely window shopping, neither of us too keen on looking at more clothing, Amelia and I decided to go eat something before we had to go home. On our way to the sandwich shop, we ran into none other than Daniel. Actually, he and I ran right into each other.

"Oh, excuse me, Miss," He said very politely. I recognized his voice right away, and froze.

"Daniel?" He turned around as he was walking away, and smiled in recognition.

"Oh, hello there, Clara; Amelia! Didn't see you there. Where are you two headed?"

"The sandwich shop. Would you like to join us?" Amelia said this before I could stop her. She _knew_ it had become increasingly awkward for me to be around Daniel in the last few months, even though I had no idea _why._ It seemed like one day we could spend hours together, talking and laughing without a care in the world, and then there were suddenly long pauses between sentences and no eye contact from either of us and then some fickle excuse as to why one of us had to get home, or we'd be in trouble. Even the fact that he had still managed to leave me my early birthday card amidst all this drama didn't alleviate the strange tension I still felt around him.

And what had happened to our _Girls Only_ day out, anyway?

"I wish that I could, but I have to head home." I barely contained my sigh of relief at his reply. And I barely ignored the pang in my chest at this new sudden distance between one of my two cherished best friends and myself. It wasn't fair; he and Amelia had no such problems between them. Only he and I did. Perhaps I was cursed or something.

"Well then, we'll see you soon," I said, pulling on Amelia's arm and walking away as fast as I could, unable to stand being around him for one minute longer. It was easier to handle being in Daniel's presence when I could prepare myself for it; this time he had been sprung upon me like an unwanted surprise.

"Yes, I'll see you very soon!" He called after us, as we walked away. He was playing the game of pretending everything was normal, as well.

When we finally sat down with our food, stomachs grumbling from hunger, I asked Amelia, "_Why_ did you invite Daniel to join us?"

Amelia looked me straight in the eye and said matter of factly, "You two like each other. Anyway, I _was_ just trying to be polite."

I rolled my eyes, ignoring the hammering of my heart in my chest. "I do not like Daniel, Amelia. We're friends and that's all."

Amelia snorted. "All right, Clara. Whatever you say."

I narrowed my eyes at her and picked up my sandwich, taking an agitated bite out of it.

Once we finished eating, it was nearly sundown, so we headed over to the park to wait for Amelia's father. I pulled out my sketch pad almost as soon as we sat down, and began to draw a woman holding a miniature dog, hell bent on capturing the look of adoration she was shooting at the tiny animal.

"You so like to draw, Clara," Amelia's words held a hint complaint in them. "You ignore me whenever you do!"

"Yes, I do," I replied, not really paying much attention to our conversation. Whenever I draw, I become very absorbed in what I'm doing. I wasn't trying to be rude to her, but she knew how I was; had been since we were small. I finished my drawing just as Amelia's father pulled up in his car to take us home, long after the woman had walked away, beloved pet in arm. I was lucky I had a photographic memory, or I would never be able to get any of my drawings done. While on the way home, Amelia asked to see my drawing. I was more than happy to comply, still full of pride at completing the drawing as I always was after I finished one.

"Sure," She took the pad from me, and as she critically studied it the only way Amelia could, excitement shone in her eyes. She was my biggest supporter beside my mother.

"Wow Clara, this looks _exactly_ like that woman and the dog! It's wonderful."

She handed the sketch pad back to me and I closed it. "Thank-you Amelia. That's _so very _kind of you."

My thanks could have come out a _bit_ nicer, but I was still a tad annoyed with her over Daniel.

When we pulled up in front of my house, I gathered my bags, said good night, and gratefully headed inside, away from my match making bosom friend.

& & &

That night, I laid in my bed, deep in thought. Sleep refused me because of what was on my mind. What Amelia had said about Daniel and I earlier was still bothering me. Could Daniel really like me? Did _I_ like him more than as a friend? I shook my head to clear my thoughts. I wasn't going to think about it anymore; not tonight. With that, I rolled over on my side, and stubbornly kept my mind blank and my eyes closed until I fell into a peaceful sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Clara Dawson**

**A/N: _Hello again every one. I am so, so sorry that it took so long for me to update. I haven't really been inspired to write at all lately, lol. Thank-you so much for all the reviews, please keep reviewing! I'm going to try to update when I can, because I'm moving so it may take a little while, like one day or so. Oh and I forgot to mention that this takes place 14 years after Titanic, so I believe around the year 1926 almost 1927. Around that time, since Clara is 14 right now but she's turning 15. Okay sorry if that confused you, and thank you again!  
_**  
**_Okay now on with the story : )!_**

**New A/N:_ Rewritten as well…am I done yet?_**

**Chapter Three**

The next morning when I woke up, I got ready rather quickly. I wanted to go to the beach. For some reason I had the strangest urge to go there and I wasn't about to deny myself. When I came into the kitchen, my mother was already making breakfast.

"Oh, Good morning darling. You're up early," She commented.

"I know, mother. Would you mind if I went to the beach today?"

My mother looked at me, and smiled. "Of course you can. Just be careful."

Without eating, I went out the door, waving over my shoulder. It was a beautiful day, warm and sunny. As I walked the few streets down to the beach, I stared up into the sky. It was so blue, and I wondered briefly if that's where my father was. Up in the sky, apart of all that endless blue. While I was looking up, I tripped over something and fell. I can be rather clumsy sometimes. I grabbed my sketch pad and began to lift myself up, when I saw a hand come out of nowhere, right in front of my face. I looked up, and saw familiar green eyes smiling warmly at me.

"Daniel?" I asked, surprised. _Oh, no._

"Hello there, Clara. Would you like me to help you up? Or would you prefer to stay on the ground?" I gave him a shaky smile and took his hand. I brushed off my white dress, and looked at him.

"What are you doing here?"

"Actually, I was heading over to your house."

"Oh, really?" There was surprise in my voice.

"Yes," he replied, now grinning.

"Well, as you can see, I won't be there," I paused and thought for a moment. Well, if he had been coming to see me I couldn't very well be rude, could I? Even though I wanted to be on my way and do just that. A feeling of jumping off a cliff head first came over me, as I said, "But if you would like to join me at the beach, you may."

"I would love to," He sounded a little too sure for my liking; like he thought we'd be able to handle it, just like old times.

Maybe we could, I thought, trying to be positive.

But, I didn't think so. Something was going to happen, like it always did lately.

& & &

We walked in silence the rest of the way to the beach. When we got there, I looked out into the endless ocean and sighed. Without minding about the sand, Daniel and I sat down. He was looking out into the water as well, so I pulled out my sketch pad, and began to draw the beautiful scene before me, looking to withdraw from the situation just a little. I was grateful for my habit of carrying my sketchpad around with me everywhere I went, for once. I could feel his eyes on me the whole time, which didn't help to calm my jumpy nerves, and it made me feel so strange. Just _feeling_ Daniel's eyes on me made me feel warm all over, though I had no idea why, and wasn't sure I wanted to, either.

_Daniel's POV_

I watched her as she drew, the pencil moving about the page with smooth, graceful, strokes. I couldn't keep my eyes off of her; they felt _glued_ in place. Every time I'm near her, or touch her, I feel a tingling in my heart. I wonder what it is. What is it about her that makes me so, well, I'm not sure how to describe it…

_End of Daniel's POV_

The wind was warm, as it gently blew across my face. The air smelled so clean and fresh, and everything was _finally_ absolutely tranquil. Whenever I go to the beach and draw, this is where I become most lost in my work, thank-goodness. I could hear the waves crashing on the shore, and the sound of the seagulls calling to one another. Daniel stayed quiet the whole time, albeit eyes still on me, until I finished the drawing and showed it to him.

"Beautiful," he said. Then he paused for a moment, seemingly debating something in his mind.

And then he continued. "Just like you."

My heart jumped in my chest. I hadn't expected that, and it wasn't just the words, it was his soft tone. I looked into his deeply disturbing eyes, and he looked into my own. I leaned forward, as if some force was pulling me slowly to him. He did the same, and before I knew what was happening, we kissed. I felt something strong and powerful like electricity shoot through my body, and pulled away quickly. Far too quickly than I truly wanted to, which only scared me more. I turned my back to him, as I hurriedly stood up. After a few moments of trying to catch my breath, still in shock, I turned around and dared a look at him. His face looked just as stunned as I felt.

Managing a few short words, I mumbled, "I'd like to go home now."

I picked up my sketch pad, and began walking away, just like that, head down. No looking back to see if he was following. I heard footsteps behind me, and felt him at my side. I still didn't look up; I just stared at the white sand as I walked.

And just as it always happens whenever I don't pay attention, I bumped into someone. I hadn't expected it at all, since the beach had seemed deserted that day. I fell into the sand with an _oomph_. At least this time I'd managed not to fall on my face! The man I had bumped into held out his hand, and helped me to my feet. _I can get up myself_, I thought, agitated with myself for being such a klutz. I looked up to thank him, and suddenly found myself staring into bright blue eyes, that seemed _so_ familiar.

I was dumbstruck, and just stared at him.

"Are you okay, Miss?" He asked me.

I just nodded, unable to speak.

"Sorry about that, wasn't watching where I was going."

"It's all right," I said, finally getting my voice back. The man just smiled, and walked off. I looked back after him as he went off, his short blond hair blowing in the wind.

I shrugged and turned around. Oh, well. I didn't know him. That still didn't quench the nagging in my head. I had seen those eyes somewhere before. I just dismissed it, like I had a lot of things lately, and began walking again, with Daniel right beside me. He had been standing there the whole time, just quietly watching the scene unfold.

The rest of the walk home was like that; full of haunting silence.


	4. Chapter 4

**Clara Dawson**

**A/N:**_**Hello everyone, sorry I haven't updated in a while. I had writers block and I still do, but I wanted to update this. Thank you for the reviews. Please, please keep reviewing! Lol.  
**_  
**Disclaimer: **_**Don't own anything Titanic. Only Clara, Daniel, and Amelia.**_

**New A/N: **_**Edited…AGAIN. Totally re-written. 12/16/07.  
**_  
_**Now on with the story...**_

**Chapter Four**

I sat on the porch later that day, staring out into the setting sky, contemplating the strange and unexpected turns life sometimes takes. The orange and pinks usually helped relax me (Funny, how I was always looking for something that would relax me lately. I'm not usually such a high-strung person.), but this time it was different. I had _kissed_ him! Kissed _Daniel_. What was I going to do? What did it mean? Would he even be able to look me in the eyes again? And I his? Could Amelia actually have been right? Did I have feelings for Daniel? He was such a good friend. Had the kiss ruined everything? I hoped not. I would die if I lost his friendship, he was so dear to me. Why had I chosen my _best friend_ to be the one I shared my first kiss with? Of all the people!

& & &

Rose watched the play of emotions running across her daughter's face from the parlor window. She had to fight the urge to run to her and ask her what was wrong; wrap her in her arms like she had when she was a small child and upset. Protect her from any harm. What mother wanted to see her child in pain? But, she knew she had to give her little girl some space. She was growing up. If Clara needed someone to talk to, she at least knew her mother was always there, with an open ear. Rose had always made that clear. It was now her time to let, for lack of a better phrase, her daughter spread her wings.

She smiled softly as she called up images of Clara as an especially small infant. She'd been the most beautiful thing Rose had ever seen; still was. Being eighteen and alone with a baby was hard enough in itself. But, being eighteen and alone with a babe that needed special care had been utterly terrifying, not just daunting. She regretted not a moment. Once Clara had grown stronger after her terrible birth, an early birth for which Rose placed the blame on herself, time had seemed to come and go about as fast as her romance with Jack Dawson. And now Clara was almost fifteen.

Time truly was a fickle thing.

Even after sixteen years, it both hurt and soothed to think of Jack. It was hard to imagine loving some one you had known for mere days so strongly, so purely, but love him she did. And would for the rest of her life. Not for the first time did she wish he could be there to help raise their daughter. He would have made a wonderful father. Memories of Jack with another little girl, one who had inspired their own daughter's name, flashed through her mind and made her both smile and tear up simultaneously.

Years had made the sound of his voice only an echo in her memories, but she still remembered clearly his smell, his touch, his smile. His eyes. Clara's eyes. And a promise he had begged her to make on a cold night in April. A night of inexplicable death.

She had lived her every waking moment since that night by the guidelines of that promise. She was living.

Jack had made the life Rose had made for herself and their daughter possible. At first, just a man stopping a desperate lady from jumping. And from then on, jumping with her in every moment after. There was no way to name all the ways in which Jack had saved her.

Santa Monica really was a wonderful place to live. She was happy in her not-too-small-not-too-large home, with her job, with the sea near by. Even though Rose had not been near the ocean since she'd first arrived in Santa Monica, couldn't bring herself to look at it anymore, just knowing it was near made her feel closer to Jack. He was a part of it now.

Rose Dawson closed her eyes and took herself back to a moment where she had once flown; felt her first taste of true freedom. She took herself back to a song softly sung in her ear, and the tang of a true love's kiss.

& & &

I still sat on the porch an hour later. I really had to find a way to distract myself. My thoughts traveled back to other events of the day, by sheer force of will. And to that man I had bumped into. My forehead wrinkled in confusion and concentration. Why would I think of him? And then, had I _seen_ him somewhere before? No, of course not. Nowhere, I was sure. And yet something was nagging at me. There was just something so _familiar_ about him, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it…

"Clara, time for dinner!" My mother's voice broke through my train of thought.

"Coming!" I shouted.

Standing up, I headed back inside.


	5. Chapter 5

**Clara Dawson**

**A/N: **_**Hi everybody, I know it took me a long time to update AGAIN. Sorry about that. I'm actually working on the next chapter now. Can you please, please, review? Oh and thank you soooo much to all of you that have reviewed so far. Now enough talk from me, here's the next chapter. (Disclaimer in earlier chapters, so look there for it.)**_

**New A/N:**_** Edited, again. Just tweaked a little bit, really. 12/16/07.**_

**Chapter Five**

My sleep was restless that night. Dreams of that kiss plagued me. The warm feeling that had overwhelmed my senses, and the soft feel of Daniel's lips upon my own. Then the dream switched subjects. The blond man suddenly came into view. His smile and his eyes stuck out the most. It was like they were exaggerated, stood out more than the rest of him. It was as if the dream was pointing something out to me; something I just couldn't catch on to. Then his voice filled my head, and I recalled the hint of laughter that had been in his tone. That made him seem all the more familiar. Just _who_ was he? And why couldn't I shake the feeling I knew him? Even in slumber! I sat up in bed with a start. My eyes still foggy with sleep, I rose from the bed. I would just have to try harder to squelch my curiosity about the mystery man. I would never see him again, anyway.

Boy, was I wrong.

& & &

I went down to the beach again, but it somehow didn't feel the same. My chest had this strange heaviness to it, and my stomach fluttered with worry. What if Daniel never spoke to me again? It would be my fault. Wasn't I the one who had leaned towards him? Yes, it would be on my shoulders if we lost our friendship. My shoulders slumped and I plopped down into the sand. Maybe sketching would cease my thinking. Yet even as I drew, thoughts of Daniel continued to crowd my mind. His genuine smile, his wonderful teasing nature.

And, of course, The Kiss.

I put my pencil down, and touched my fingers to my lips. I could still feel him there. I looked to my right and envisioned him sitting beside me like yesterday, before The Kiss ruined everything. I looked out into the ocean. It always seemed to calm me, no matter how I was feeling. Today was, thankfully, no exception. I sighed and went back to my drawing. It was of a sand castle I was picturing before me. What it would look like in front of the foaming waves crashing onto the shore; the way it's tiny flags would ripple about in the breeze.

In time, I became so engrossed in what I was doing, that I didn't even notice a person standing behind me, looking over my shoulder at my piece of work.

"You like to draw?" The deep male voice snapped me out of my reverie. I looked up, absolutely startled. And I found myself staring up into familiar blue eyes. I must have looked as shocked as I felt, for the man said,

"Didn't mean to sneak up on you. I was just walking by when I recognized you from yesterday."

I nodded and squeaked, "It's quite all right."

He nodded back and repeated, "You like to draw?"

I looked from my drawing to him, closed my sketch pad, and caught my breath.

"Love it."

He sat down next to me. "Mind if I take a look?"

I hesitated. "Oh, they're just silly little sketches."

He held out his hand. "Let me be the judge of that."

I looked at him skeptically, but handed over my drawings. He opened up the first page and whistled lowly.

"Silly little sketches?"

I just shrugged.

After he finished looking at all of them, he handed the pad back to me. "You have a real gift there, ...?"

"Clara." He seemed startled to hear the name.

"What?" I asked him.

He shook his head. "Nothing. It just reminds me of someone I knew once. Similar name."

"My mother named me after a young girl she used to know," I told him.

He just nodded absently. He had a faraway look in his eyes that reminded me of my mother whenever she reminisced about the past.

I decided to break the now awkward silence. "You seemed to know what you were talking about."

He snapped out if his thoughts. "About what?"

"My drawings."

He laughed. "I used to be an artist myself."

My eyes widened in interest. "Really?"

He nodded. "Yup."

"That's amazing!"

He grinned at me and stood up. "Well, I should get going. It was nice talking to you, Clara."

"You too." I replied.

He started walking away, and I suddenly realized that I hadn't even caught his name.

I turned my head and shouted after him. "Wait! What's your name?"

"Jack!"


	6. Chapter 6

**Clara Dawson**

**A/N: **_**Hey everyone, it's been a LONG time, I know. Please don't hate me! Well, it took me longer to get this chapter up then I suspected, but I also got to write a few more and they're in the editing process at the moment. Anyway. Thank you so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, sooooooooo MUCH for your reviews, I'm so grateful. I'm glad you guys are liking it, I've had my doubts about it, I still do. But I WILL keep it up, I can promise that. Wow is this a long authors note or what? lol Well I'll stop talking now so you can get on to the chapter. Oh and PLEASE keep reviewing!**_

**-Edited again 12/16/07.-**

**Chapter Six**

I left the beach in a stunned silence. I'd never before met a man with the name Jack. Now that I had, a slow pain filled my heart. Just hearing the name was strange. The rest of the day I was filled with nostalgia. If only I could meet my father _once_ I'd be happy. I would give up anything to look upon him for just a moment.

Sigh.

It would never happen, and I knew that. No point in wishing for it. It'd only be a great waste of time. That night I sat in front of the mirror trying to see my father in me, trying to picture his face, as I'd done thousands of times. But all I saw was my plain one staring back.

& & &

I didn't see Jack for more than a week after our last encounter, though I went to the beach everyday. I sat there hour after hour sketching away furiously, trying not to think of Daniel and what had happened in the spot I sat in. I missed hearing him laugh and hearing his jokes. _He hates me now_, I reminded myself. I finally put the finishing touches on my sketch and examined it. I nearly dropped the pad at what I saw. There was the beach in all its glory with two people sitting by the ocean, waves lapping at their feet.

They were kissing.

Upon closer inspection, I saw a resemblance to Daniel in the man. How in the world could I have drawn them without realizing it? Surely I would have stopped had I known! So much for a sand castle! The Kiss was haunting me, I finally decided. Why, it had even sunk into my subconscious!

I suddenly sensed someone behind me. I don't know how, but I knew it was Daniel even before words escaped his lips. Lips. The thought of his lips and how sweet and strong they had felt against mine made a strange and slow heat fill my stomach.

"Clara?" The words sounded defeated.

I didn't turn for a moment, frozen, unable to believe he was here. I thought I'd never see him again!

"Hello, Daniel." Nothing more.

He cleared his throat. "Mind if I sit down?"

"Not at all."

He sat down; looked at me for a moment. His words came out in a rush. "God, Clara I'm so sorry. It should never have happened. It _won't_ happen again. Please, can you forgive me?"

I stared out into the ocean. I just couldn't look at him. _He_ was feeling guilty?_ I_ was the one that had kissed _him_, wasn't I? His words made my shoulders sag in disappointment. Disappointment? Why would I-

"Clara, please say something."

I turned and ogled a point above his head, instead of his face.

"It's all right Daniel, really. I-I'm sorry, as well."

His eyes widened. "Sorry? For what? You've nothing to be sorry about! Clara, I -"

His hand was on my arm. Heat. Intense heat was all that I could feel, seeping from his skin into my own. I looked helplessly into his eyes. Our faces were so close, I could feel his breath on my cheek. His eyes darkened with something I couldn't name. The next thing I knew, his other hand came to the nape of my neck and pulled me towards him. His lips touched my own in a way I can only describe as desperate. He pulled away and looked at me. I knew my eyes held whatever answer he'd been seeking, for he kissed me again. A long, passionate kiss that left me breathless. We abruptly parted when someone cleared their throat and said,

"Excuse me." I knew that voice and looked up immediately.

"Jack! Hello. We were just, um-" Oh, of all the times to finally make an appearance!

He looked amused. "It's okay."

Daniel stood up quickly and I looked at him, almost panicked. Was he going to leave again? Would he stay away forever this time?

"I should go. Clara, we'll talk later." Was it just me or did that sound like more of a command than a request? I couldn't reply, because he had already begun to walk away. I hit the sand, frustrated. Jack sat down.

"Sorry I intruded."

"No, it's all right. Really. How are you?"

"Just fine. And should I even ask how you're doing?" I smiled halfheartedly.

"I wouldn't be able to answer anyway."

He looked at me seriously. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Did I? _Could_ I? This man was practically a stranger, but for some reason his offer seemed completely _natural._ So odd.

I shook my head. "Perhaps later, right now my mind is too muddled."

What would have happened had Jack not shown up?

He nodded. "Love does that to you."

My heart jolted in my chest. "I-I don't-"

"Besides, you shouldn't be kissing anyway. You're to young."

"Is that a fact?" I replied smartly, gathering my bearings.

"I'm speaking from experience. You're to young to lose your heart to anyone. You'll never get it back." I detected a trace of sadness in his voice.

I shrugged. "Experience?"

Jack hesitated. "It was a long time ago. I fell in love with the most beautiful girl I've ever seen," he looked at me. "I was twenty."

"What happened?"

"I think she's dead." The last was said so bitterly that I cringed.

"D-Dead?"

"She made a promise to me, you know. Not to let go. But she did. I _know_ she did." I felt his sorrow in waves. It radiated from his voice; his body language.

"I'm so sorry." I wondered what had happened to her; what that promise that affected him so strongly upon mere mentioning had been about.

Jack shrugged it off with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "It's done. I made my peace with it a long time ago."

I didn't think he had.


	7. Chapter 7

**Clara Dawson**

**A/N:  _Hello again. Well the time has come for me to FINALLY update Clara Dawson. I officially love all my reviewers, you guys are the best. You have no idea how much the fact that you actually read this means to me. And I am sooooo grateful that you review. Seriously. I've been thinking about this story quite a lot. I have BIG plans for it, yes siree bob I do. Like I said, I promise I'll keep writing this. I just hope you don't come to hate me when my updates take so long . I have a lot going on in my life right now and I'm sorry if it takes awhile for me to update. Writing is VERY important to me and it's the last thing I'd give up on. Sometimes it's almost likes it's the only thing I really have. Anyway, enough of my rambling. You're probably thinking, "Can we get on with the story now!" LoL. Well, hey, this author's note definitely topped the last one. Okay now here we go with chapter seven…Please Review! _**

**Disclaimer:  _Look into earlier chapters. Thankies. _**

**New A/N:  _Edited this chappie too…_**

**Chapter Seven**

When I left Jack, I couldn't decide what to do. Would Daniel be waiting for me when I got home? I couldn't face him yet, couldn't deal with the awkward silence I knew would come. But another part of me was so eager to lay eyes on his handsome face again that I wanted to run home as fast as I could. It was rather confusing. I decided to walk two miles to Amelia's house. She opened the door with a surprised look on her face.

"Clara? What are you doing here?"

"I can't come by to say hello to my friend?"

"Yes you can, I just didn't expect any visitors today."

"Well surprise!" I said smartly. Amelia smiled and let me in.

& & &

When we were both sitting on her bed, she looked at me curiously.

"So, why are you _really_ here?"

"I just came-"

"Clara, I know you better than that."

"Alright, fine." I preceded to tell her everything that had been on my mind lately. From Jack's name to the kisses Daniel and I had stolen from each other. When I was finished, her eyes were glowing with satisfaction.

"See! I _was_ right! I _knew_ you two liked each other!" She was gloating and I just let her.

"Well I don't know if we _like_ each other, Amelia. I was just-"

"Have you _ever_ kissed a boy?" She interrupted.

"Amelia, you know I haven't."

"Exactly my point. There's never been a boy you _truly_ liked enough to kiss. And you wouldn't unless you did!" She was right, but I wasn't about to admit it.

"You're wrong."

She put a hand on my shoulder. "Clara, you're in deep denial. Now, get out! Go home!"

"Amelia!"

"I mean it in the nicest way possible. Now get!"

I got.

& & &

Amelia pushing me to go home and talk with Daniel gave me a little confidence. My best friend seemed so sure…But, oh lord, what would happen if it _was_ true? Would Daniel and I become closer or would we forever feel uncomfortable around each other? Great, now I had butterflies in my stomach. Was that some sort of omen? When I stepped onto the porch, there he was. He stood there looking like a hero from a dime novel. And looking like he had all the time in the world to wait-to wait for what?

"Clara? Where have you been? I've been waiting for you."

_Waiting for you._ I finally figured it out. He looked like he had all the time in the world to wait for _me._ Just the thought of it made me smile.

Daniel gave me a quizzical look. "What are you smiling at?"

"You." I replied before I could stop myself.

Suddenly our eyes locked and the smiles slowly slid from our faces. It felt like he could see deep inside of me, into my soul. No one had ever looked at me so intently in my life. The image of his eyes at that moment would be forever burned into my memory. I felt the same heat as before spread throughout my entire body. I knew I felt something for him then. Something strong. Something rare. I looked away with great difficulty, suddenly noticing how hot it was.

"Would you like to come in?"

"Very much so."

I unlocked the door and called for mother. There was no answer. She must be at work. My mother was an actress. It kept her away for long periods of time. Never having bothered me before, it suddenly did. It meant I was completely _alone_ with Daniel. Oh lord.


	8. Chapter 8

**Clara Dawson**

**_A/N: Hello, everyone. Finally updating this story again. I want to thank all my reviewers from the bottom of my heart. So, thank-you! Okay, this time I'm not gonna waste your time with a long-ass author's note. So, without further ado, I give you the next installment in Clara Dawson._**

**Disclaimer:_ I own nothing Titanic. But I do own Clara, Daniel, Amelia, etc._**

**Chapter Eight**

My heart was beating so fast that I thought it would pop out of my chest. I was nervous. More nervous than I had ever been about _anything_ in my life. Daniel and I were sitting on the sofa in the parlor now, on opposite ends. I felt myself go cold. If we were sitting so far apart, then did that mean he was repulsed by me? No, no. He wouldn't be here, wouldn't have waited for me for so long, if he was. Stop analyzing things so much, I told myself. I didn't know what in the world I was doing, what to expect next. It was so new to me. Just so new.

He made the first move. His large hand slid atop my trembling one. I felt a calmness envelope my entire being, and I immediately relaxed. I knew right then, somehow, that I would never feel this way or be affected by anyone else like _this_. Ever. No one but Daniel Treveali. I was getting quite frustrated at my inability to name the way his eyes darkened. What were they darkening from? Would I ever have even _one_ answer to the millions of questions buzzing in my brain? He put a finger under my chin, tipping it so I had to meet his heated gaze.

"Clara…" I saw all the questions in Daniel's own eyes, and realized he was just as confused as me.

"Clara," he began again, his breath warm against my lips, "I don't know what's happening with us. But whatever it is, I don't want it to end. I'm drawn to you. I can't get you out of my mind. You're with me when I wake in the morning and rest my head at night. When I walk around during the day. Always."

I didn't know what to say at first. I _couldn't_ say anything. Words were lodged in my throat. I absorbed what he'd said for a moment. Let it sink way in, then spread throughout my veins. It tingled.

"I-" It came out as a gasp at first. "I don't want it to end either." And I just knew I wouldn't be able to live if it did.

**A/N:_ Well, that's the end of this very short chapter. Please don't be mad! I already have up to chapter eighteen written in my notebook. Just have to make time to type them out. The next chapter is pretty long, so don't worry. Anyway, thanks again for the reviews! Please keep reviewing!_**

_**Rory**_


	9. Chapter 9

**Clara Dawson**

**A/N:_ Hey, decided to put this chapter up too. Enjoy, and please review!_**

**Disclaimer: _Look in earlier chapters, thanks._**

**Chapter Nine**

In the days that followed our discussion, Daniel became my world. I even kept his picture on my bedside table at night. I was always with him. No matter where I was, there he was too. I began to see less and less of Amelia. I knew she was happy for us, but she was my best friend! How could I just abandon her?

"Clara," she told me one day when I stopped by her house, "Clara, don't be so bothered! I'm so glad for you and Daniel! _And_ me! How do you think it feels to have been right about the both of you? Wonderful, I tell you! I may even do this as a career! All I want for you is to be happy, so stop letting me get in the way. Go spend time with your _true love_!"

I hesitated, but the look in her brown eyes was so bright and sure, that I believed her words. She was such a hopeless romantic! But as more days flew by, I began to wonder. _Could_ this be true love? The can't eat or sleep for thinking of your special other, kind of love my mother always spoke of? Our relationship became _official_ one day as we sat on a bench in the local park. He told me he had a surprise for me and pulled out a small, wooden box.

"Clara, will you be mine?" He said as he opened it, exposing an emerald ring. I was dumbstruck. Did Daniel truly want me to be his beau?

I didn't hesitate to say yes.

In celebration, Daniel said he was going to plan the perfect evening for us. I thought everything was perfect already.

& & &

As I ate lunch that afternoon, I caught my mother staring at me.

"What is it?" I asked her.

Her eyes narrowed. "There's something different about you."

"Is there?" I asked, feigning confusion.

"Yes, in fact there is."

"And what would that be?" I grinned at her.

Suddenly her eyes widened and she held out her hand. "Where did you get that ring? Let me see!"

She admired it for a few seconds, then looked at me with inquiring blue-green eyes. "From Daniel. It's a promise ring."

My mother didn't seem surprised. Was I the only one that hadn't noticed anything between Daniel and I? Suddenly, I burst out,

"Oh mum! I'm so happy!" My mother gave me a rare smile.

"I'm so glad darling. Now, tell me all about it…"

& & &

I must have tried on ten different dresses that night. I wanted to look perfect for Daniel, and nothing seemed right. And my hair didn't want to cooperate. I got so frustrated at one point, that I was tempted to cut it off. Short hair was in, right? But it wouldn't suit me and I didn't want to do something I'd regret later. I finally settled for pulling one side of it away from my face with one of my mother's antique-looking combs. I applied a little touch of make-up with a light hand and I was done. And then I wanted to change my dress again. I was still rummaging through my closet when my mother knocked on my door.

"Darling, Daniel's here. May I come in?" Suddenly I was shaking and I couldn't speak. She pushed open the door and peaked her head inside.

"Clara?" She asked, sounding stunned. I became worried and confused immediately.

"What? What is it? My hair? Or my dress? Oh, maybe I chose the wrong one…"

Her hands came on my shoulders and I felt the soothing affect they had always had on me. Just like when I was a little girl and would wake up screaming in the middle of the night, having had a nightmare that I was drowning in ice-cold water…

"No, no sweetheart. You look perfect. You just look so old, you're growing up so fast. You're not a baby anymore. It's hard for me. I _am_ your mother after all." Her eyes were warm with love. Good old mum, always there to reassure me.

She finally got a smile out of me. "There's that smile I love so much. Your father would have been so happy." My eyes filled with tears and I fought to hold my smile. I wished he could be there.

Suddenly the dreamy look went out of my mother's eyes and she straightened. Brushing a lock of hair from my face, she said,

"You don't want to keep Daniel waiting. Go on. You look beautiful, don't worry." I grinned and kissed her on the cheek.

"See you later."

What I didn't know was that she sat in my room hours after I had left, tears glistening in her lovely eyes, remembering my father. And wishing too, that he was there.

& & &

I saw Daniel's back as I descended down the stairs, feeling like Cinderella as she entered the ball, when he turned and looked at me. I stopped on the bottom stair, taking him in. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt and un-wrinkled black pants. He took the breath from my lungs. That grin of his made his face light up.

"You look amazing, Clara! So beautiful!" I grinned back shyly. Which completely bewildered me. When had I, Clara Ruth Dawson, ever been _shy_? Well, right now, apparently. He held out his hand and I took it. We walked hand in hand out into the cool night. Much to my surprise, his father's car sat in front of my house, empty. I stopped dead.

"Since when did you drive, Daniel Treveali?"

"Since two days ago. I wanted to surprise you. Now, Miss Dawson, may I?" I laughed as he helped me into the car, as if he were a valet.

He came around the driver's side and got in himself. He smiled over at me as he put the key into the ignition. And then we headed towards a night I would never in all my life forget.

**A/N:_ Well, that's it for this chapter. Damn did that take a long time to type! Especially after I lost it half way through typing it the first time. :grumbles: Stupid Computer! Anyway, please review and tell me what you thought! Thankies._**

_**Rory**_


	10. Chapter 10

**Clara Dawson**

**A/N:** **_I have a reply to Anonymous, a person that I got a review from. Firstly, thanks for taking the time out to point out a few things to me. If this is similar to another author's story, then I'm really sorry. I didn't intend to copy another's story. And the formatting, well, hopefully you read past the first chapter, because that was even worse than my formatting is now. I've edited all my earlier chapters now, like I've been wanting to, and fixed the formatting and tweaked a few things. So, everything's a go. And I've never said my writing was good, so if this is written badly, then I'm sorry. I'm no professional. Hell, I may not even write well at all. But I'm still learning. I appreciate all you said, I'm always open to criticism. It's stupid to get angry over something like that. And everyone else, thank-you for your reviews too. It's all appreciated. Now, here's the next chapter._**

**Disclaimer:_ I own nothing Titanic. Short, but sweet, and true._**

**Chapter Ten**

It started out with a fancy restaurant that had the best food I had ever tasted. My mother and I weren't the best cooks. I felt like a movie star, sitting there with the most handsome boy in the room, being paid special attention to by waiters in suits. Though I protested I could pay for my own dinner, Daniel waved me off. I didn't argue anymore. Of all the years of knowing him, I knew how stubborn he could be. After supper, we went dancing. Usually prone to ballet, I wasn't used to the fast tempo of the music. But Daniel took me in his arms and guided me step by step, until, might I say, I was just as good as he.

I felt magic in the air that night, everywhere we went. And Daniel and I were the ones creating it. He made me laugh till my drink almost came out of my nose, and made me want to kiss him when he looked at me with love in his eyes. I didn't know it then, but it was love. The love of two young people that was destined to last forever. Every time I heard his voice, my heart would flutter. It happened so many times during our date, that I was becoming used to it. As we sat on the bench that we had become a couple on, I even began to dream of our future together. Our wedding day, our children. Would they have his hair? His eyes? He laughed at me when he had to call my name to snap me out of la-la land. And I laughed right along with him.

I think I knew that night that I loved him. That I could go on loving him forever. And then I told myself I was being absurd. This was only our first date, and I was only just about to turn fifteen. How could I know what true love was? But that didn't stop the love I felt from shining in my eyes. I didn't need anything for my birthday, I decided. I had already gotten the best gift I could possibly be given. Daniel.

& & &

We decided to go to the beach before we headed home. We strode along the darkened shore hand in hand, talking about anything and everything. I shivered as a chilled breeze swept off the ocean, and Daniel slipped his jacket around my shoulders. Then we both stopped breathing. I stared into his green eyes, with my heart in my own. And he looked at me so tenderly, I thought I would melt. The kiss we shared this time was calmer and stronger. Made so by the new bond we shared.

He tasted like brandy. Sweet and intoxicating. He smelt of salt and city. His arms came around my waist to pull me closer to him. We were so close at one point, that I couldn't tell where he began and I ended. It was exquisite. I had felt nothing like this before. Not even with the other kisses we had shared. I felt like I was where I belonged.

**A/N:** **_Well, that's all for Chapter Ten. What did you think? Let me just tell you something, you guys are the absolute best. Thank-you for taking time out to review and even read my story in the first place. It means more than you can know. :big grin:_**

_**Rory**_


	11. Chapter 11

**Clara Dawson**

**A/n:_ Heya, guys. It's been awhile since I've updated. I am so sorry. I had state tests and everything. And now I'm really sick. I felt like I was dying yesterday, with a really high fever. And today, I had a spurt of energy when I woke up, and then got really light headed. I forced myself to sit down. So, I figure if I'm sitting down, I may as well update. Your reviews are so great. They keep me motivated. Without you guys, this story would be nowhere. So, thank-you all. Okay, before I pass out, here's the next chapter! _**

**Disclaimer:_ Own nada Titanic. Adios._**

**Chapter Eleven**

I was on a mission. My birthday was in two days. So, when the sun met the horizon on it's journey up to the sky, sketch book tucked under my arm, I set out to find Jack. I hadn't seen the man in weeks. Ever since that unforgettable night, Daniel and I had become inseparable. The morning after I had stared into the mirror. But this time I wasn't looking for a trace of my father. I was looking for a sign that I had changed. I felt different. Like I was half of someone else, and that someone else was half of me.

As I approached the beach and walked down towards the shore, the warm sand between my toes, I looked every which way for Jack. And I looked at the beach with new eyes. This place would always hold a separate set of memories for me. Always. And one day they would come back to haunt me. Not spotting Jack, I sat down. I tried to concentrate on my sketching, but excitement about my upcoming birthday party, occupied my mind. It would only be a small get-together with my mother, Amelia, and Daniel. And hopefully Jack.

Now I prayed he would do his part and show up, so I could invite him. If I waited all day, he would eventually come, right? Or maybe he didn't come anymore, because I hadn't been coming. But, I contradicted myself, he'd come before I'd even met him. Putting the issue to rest, I again attempted to sketch. A man sat down next to me, without a word spoken. We both stared out into the endless sea for a few minutes, and then he said,

"So, where have you been the last three weeks?"

"With Daniel."

"That boy I caught you kissing?" I gave him a flustered look, only able to nod.

"Thought so."

"Yes, well-"

"Are you happy?" I looked at him wide-eyed. His tone had sounded so…concerned. Almost as if he would kill Daniel, if I weren't happy. I didn't understand it.

I told him the truth. "I'm very happy."

"Good. I can see it."

"You can?"

"You're glowing, Clara." I smiled at him. His still-familiar eyes, looked at me warmly.

"Jack, can I ask you a favor?"

He looked at me suspiciously. "Depends on what it is."

Now I was getting anxious. What if he didn't come? I really wanted him to!

"Well, you see, my birthday is in two days and we're having a small party. I wanted to-"

"Invite me?"

"Well, yes."

"That's a real nice thing to do, but-" I gave him my famous puppy dog eyes. They always worked on just about everyone.

"Please? It would mean a lot to me."

He was crumbling, I could see it. Just a little more…

"Alright. But just long enough for a piece of cake."

I squealed. Rather unladylike, I know. "Thank-you, thank-you, thank-you!"

I surprised him by giving him a quick hug. He was laughing now.

"You know, Clara, sometimes you remind me so much of someone. You look so much like her at times, I have to take a second look."

"Who's that?" I asked curiously.

His smile wavered. "No one important."

The man had been laughing but a minute ago, and now he looked horribly depressed.

"It must be hard," I said suddenly. Loosing someone you loved with all your heart, must feel like you were dying. I knew that's how it would be for me, if I ever lost Daniel.

Jack didn't even try to smile this time. Didn't even look at me. He was trying to hide the emotions on his face. This man's pain was real, and my heart broke just looking at him. Lord, but did he remind me of my mother at times. When she didn't think I was looking, or wouldn't notice, a look of raw pain, that had never in my whole life dimmed, would come onto her beautiful face. I felt almost guilty being so happy with Daniel.

I touched Jack's arm. "Wherever she is, I'm sure she's missing you just as much. Even if she _is_ dead, Jack."

He still wouldn't look at me. His hands seemed to have become the most intriguing thing to him, suddenly.

I stood up. "I should leave you alone. See you at the party."

As I walked away, his words stopped me. "You're a good person, Clara. Never loose that."

I turned to look at him, my brow creased in worry. Still he did not look up. As I turned away from Jack, I could have sworn I saw a tear fall into the sand.

**A/n: _So, was that okay? I don't know if it is, my notebook was all messed up, so this may be a little mixed up. Anyway, I have up to chapter twenty written now, so it's okay that I have writer's block. Even though I hate it. Only about a month and a half left of school. And then I'm a junior. Damn! Wow. Am I the only one that thinks this school year has gone by fast? Okies. I'm gonna go. Please review, you guys!_**

_**Rory**_


	12. Chapter 12

**Clara Dawson**

**_A/n: Hey, I'm updating again, today. I feel really bad about taking so long all the time, so here we are. And thanks for the two reviews so far! -smiles-_**

**Disclaimer: _ I own nothing Titanic. Now go…read?_**

**Chapter Twelve**

I fiddled nervously with the lace of my new dress. It looked just as wonderful as it had the day Amelia had helped me pick it out at the boutique. But _I_ didn't feel so wonderful. Ever since I had seen Jack two days ago, I had been concerned for him. I'd seen him in pain before, whenever he spoke of that woman to me, but the last time had been worse. Much worse. I wondered briefly what my mother would think when the mysterious friend I had invited, turned out to be a full grown man. I'd just have to wait and find out.

I looked myself over in my mirror. The pink lace of my dress hung on my frame delicately, contrasting perfectly with my skin and hair tones. I noticed my eyes were shining. I was fifteen now! How exciting was _that_? It wasn't even the party I was looking forward to. It was seeing Daniel. I hadn't seen him at all yesterday. My hair was pulled back with a ribbon that matched the floor length dress. A few stray waves framed my face. My being clumsy and all, I wasn't too sure about the shoes. They _were_ rather high! I knew I would fall at least once today.

Hearing voices downstairs, I turned to go out the door. And stopped dead. I spied my face in the mirror. I saw something that reminded me of someone I knew. Just by my expression. Or maybe it was of someone I didn't know at all! My father, perhaps? I had never noticed until now. I didn't look quite so much like my mother at that moment. A little hint of someone else was shining through. My heart soared. This was the one thing I had wanted for so long. To catch a glimpse of my father in me. Now I could make out more of a detailed image of him, in my mind. I kept it close to me throughout the day.

**A/n: _Sorry, it's short! Mostly, just a filler. Was it any good? Meh. Thanks again, guys._**

_**Rory**_


	13. Chapter 13

**Clara Dawson**

**A/n: _Hey, guys. Thank-you so much for the reviews! And, look, I'm updating again today! It's a world record for me, I swear! lol So, I've decided to start replying to reviews. So, I'm going to start from here and now. And to everyone that's reviewed, period, thank-you forever. Okay, here we go:_**

**_Lady Forest aka Rachel Snape: Thank-you so much! And I'm sorry if I was killing you, I didn't intend to! And thanks for telling me to, "Move it!" I mean it. :-)_**

**_Titanicobsessed: Glad I'm not alone in the thinking the school year has gone by fast. You're really sweet, and it's sooo great to hear that. It's nice to know, that my writing actually makes people feel something. You don't know how much that means to me._**

**_DawsonGurl: Thank-you! And I promise, I will keep it up. Personally, I'm wondering how Rose is gonna react. Especially with my evil little plans. :-p_**

**_amsterdamsbitch: Thanks!_**

**_MionePotter2U: Did you really? Wow, that's weird. But, in a strange way, really nice to hear. It was kind of you to tell me. I wonder what it meant. Maybe nothing, maybe something, like you said. Either way, I love that song. It made me cry the first time I heard it and I was in…fifth grade? Still makes me teary-eyed sometimes, lol. Thank-you. :-D_**

_**That's all for now! Thanks, you guys.**_

**Disclaimer: _Nothing Titanic is mine. I'm done now._**

**Chapter Thirteen**

The house was full of sun the day of my fifteenth birthday. There wasn't once a feeling of chill. Everywhere you went, you were warmed by the golden-yellow rays. I couldn't keep my eyes off of Daniel the whole time. Nor he I. His green eyes reminded me of a dense rainforest, every time they caught in the light. His dark brown hair looked a little bit longer, but was still impeccably groomed. He was pure perfection. Amelia's chestnut brown hair was worn down, which was a rare thing indeed. She hated her pin-straight locks. Her warm brown eyes smiled at Daniel and I every five minutes.

We played fun little games and had great conversation. My mother looked radiant. Her fire red hair was down, the waves so like my own, framing her face. Her makeup went perfectly with her light blue dress. My eyes wandered every now and then to the front door. Jack hadn't yet arrived. And it was soon to be time for the cake. Where was he? As my mother carried the cake out of the kitchen, I knew he wasn't coming. So with half a heart, I blew out the fifteen candles adorning the vanilla cake. It tasted like heaven. The frosting smooth and creamy and the cake as moist as a sponge.

I decided to set aside a piece for Jack. Who knew, perhaps he'd stop by later on. I knew it was an empty hope. My presents were few but beautiful. Mother gave me a brand new sketch pad with yellow tulips sewn into the leather covering. My favorite flowers. Amelia had gotten me a hand bag that I'd been admiring several days ago on a window-shopping spree. And Daniel, well, his gift was the most priceless. A thin-chained silver locket, with pictures of us as babies on one side and one from the night of our first date on the other. Boy, had my mother decided to take many when we'd gotten back. Tears pricked my eyes.

"It's beautiful, Daniel. Thank-you." I turned and lifted my hair so he could put it on me. He gave me a chaste kiss on the cheek and his eyes promised more later. My mother's eyes were filled with tenderness as she looked at us two. And a look of nostalgia settled over her features. I immediately thought of Jack. They were both lost souls. Aching for their lost loves.

I suddenly took Daniel's hand and squeezed tight. Almost afraid that he would disappear. Like my father had with my mother. Like that woman had with Jack. And I couldn't bear it. He looked at me worriedly and I just mouthed to him that I was a just a bit tired. It had been a long, wonderfully pleasant day. And now the sun was setting, turning the sky to pink dust. I watched it out of the window for the space of a few seconds. And then I snapped myself out of my wayward thoughts. Today was my birthday, for goodness sakes! I should _not_ be brooding. Especially when there were guests to tend to.

A knock sounded through the silence and we all jumped.

**A/n: _Well, that was short. But, for this chapter, that's all. The next one is rather long, so don't worry. Was this even okay? I know I ask that a lot, but I really do wonder. Anyway, thanks again, everyone. Now I have to go do a boat load of make-up homework! Yay! Not._**

_**Rory**_


	14. Chapter 14

**Clara Dawson**

**A/n: _Okay, now I'm really pissed. I was just typing this, and almost done, and then my stupid computer looses it. Ugh! And I shouldn't be updating tonight, because I still have boatloads of homework to do. But, looks like I'm going to. I'm also going to revise what I said in the last Author's note. I'm going to reply to reviews every now and then, and other stuff. Switch it up a bit. Thank-you so much for your reviews. Sometimes they're the only things that make me smile. I love you guys. But, always be honest with me. If you don't like something, tell me. Just don't be cruel. I'm sorry if I'm not that good with the writing. I'm still growing in that area. Yeah, so. Ouch, I slapped my head when I lost the page, and it was a bit too hard. Grr, that got me so angry. So, who likes Leonardo DiCaprio? I do, I do! He's an amazing actor, don't you think? And so is Kate Winslet. They have great onscreen chemistry, don't they? Okay, well I should move onto the next chapter. Thanks again!_**

**Disclaimer: _I don't own anything Titanic. Now let's rock n' roll!_**

**OH, AND A LITTLE WARNING_: This chapter is a little bit racy, so if you can't handle stuff like that, then I don't suggest you go any further. Bit more serious stuff, now. Thankies. :-D_**

**_-EDITED-_**

**Chapter Fourteen**

My heart leapt and my spirits soared. Jack! It had to be Jack. I would forgive him, I decided as I dashed towards the door. As long as he'd come, I'd forgive him his tardiness. I pulled open the door, grinning. And it wasn't Jack. It was an old man, holding a very large box.

"Can I help you?" I asked in bewilderment.

"Is there a Miss Clara Dawson, residin' here?"

"I'm she."

"Ah, then this is for you. From a Mrs. Hodgkin. Just sign here and I'll be on my way."

Mrs. Hodgkin. My mother's understudy. I hated the woman. She was sweet, but in a phony way. I signed the sheet, took the box, and walked back into the sitting room.

"Who was it?" My mother asked, trying to see me over the top of the box.

"It's a gift from Mrs. Hodgkin, Mum."

My mother laughed. "She certainly out did herself this year."

"Yeah," I grumbled.

Something shifted in the box and I dropped it. A yelp sounded from the inside. All four of us stared at it, wide-eyed.

I backed away from it slowly. "What in the world…?"

Now there were scratching noises, accompanied by more yelps.

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Amelia exclaimed, when no one moved to open it.

Always the fearless one, Amelia marched up to the box and ripped it open. Then turned to mush.

"Oh, my! How adorable! Clara, come here! Look at what that old witch got you!"

I took a few tentative steps closer and peered in. And then _I_ turned into mush.

"It's a puppy!" And not just any puppy, I thought. It was my dream dog. The one I used to tell Mrs. Hodgkin about when I was a little girl, and still went to my mother's rehearsals. A golden lab. The tiny pup's fur looked like spun gold, it's inky black eyes held curiosity. I was lost right then. I looked at my mother, about to ask her if I could keep it, and expecting to see a scowl upon her face. But, there she was, cooing nonsensical things to the pup, right along with Amelia. I glanced over at Daniel, who was observing the scene with a crooked smile on his face.

"Women and animals," he grumbled, as I walked over to his held-out arms.

I felt content, snuggled up to him. I wrapped my arms around his waist, as his were around mine, and peered up into his face.

"I have a secret," he suddenly whispered in my ear. A wave of sensation curled down my spine.

"And what's that?"

His eyes stayed locked with mine for several moments. Electricity sparked in our gazes. And suddenly Mother and Amelia weren't there. It was only Daniel and I.

"I love you." My heart somersaulted in my chest. I stared at him, dumbfounded. He _loved_ me? Then I broke out into a big smile. That was the first time he'd ever said that to me.

"I love you too." He lowered his head, and brushed a soft kiss over my lips. A powerful shudder went through my body. And then he pulled away and I immediately felt bereft and alone. Seeming to sense my distress, or feeling it himself, Daniel slipped an arm around my waist again, and kept me close to him. We both watched Amelia and my mother gush and dote over the tiny puppy. My mind wandered. It was Daniel and I's wedding day. A big white church and thousands of people coming to witness the spectacular event…

"Earth to Clara! Can you hear me?" I snapped out of my day dreams to see Amelia standing in front of me, an impatient look on her face.

"I'm sorry, Amelia. What did you say?"

"And you tell me I'm the one with my head always in the clouds," she muttered under her breath.

"I said, what are you going to name the puppy?"

I hadn't even given it a thought. One minute my attention was on the puppy, then the next, Daniel. And Daniel had the tendency to grab _all_ of my attention within seconds, with little more than a smile. I pulled away from him reluctantly and took my pup from my mother's arms. Well, it was a girl. That was for sure. It would have been simple to think of a name, had it been a male. I would have named it Daniel, just to see my boyfriend blush. _Or_ glare at me playfully. Any reaction would have made my heart stop.

I put her down and watched as she walked, or rather waddled, around the room, taking in her new surroundings. She was so curious! But, I supposed, most babies were. And they were also full of mischief. That was it! I would call her Mischief. And as the night dragged on, my puppy was already living up to her name. When it was time for Amelia and Daniel to leave, I followed them out onto the porch. As soon as the front door closed behind me, Daniel pulled me into his arms and kissed me thoroughly. When he pulled away from me, he said,

"I've been wanting to do that all night." I smiled and pulled his head back down to mine. This kiss was slow, less urgent. Somebody cleared their throat. I pulled away from Daniel and looked behind him, thinking it could be Jack. Amelia stood there, hands on her hips, and tapping her foot.

I felt sheepish. "Sorry, Amelia."

"Well, you certainly have no qualms about forgetting me!" I suddenly felt alarmed.

"Amelia! I didn't mean to-"

She laughed. "Relax, Clara! I was just kidding!"

The tension in me eased away. "I really didn't mean to forget you."

She put her hands on my shoulders, just as her father pulled up. "Love does that to you. Happy birthday, Clara."

And then she was gone.

Love. I liked the sound of that. I almost slipped into one of my day dreams again, but Daniel tapped my shoulder. I turned to him.

"Are you done now?" he questioned.

"Not quite." And then, rather bold for me, I kissed him. And then he took charge, as he always seemed to do. The kiss turned hot and hurried. When we pulled away, we were both breathless. His eyes were dark again. What in the heavenly earth was it with?

"Care for a midnight stroll?" _That_ idea sounded heavenly. I loved the night, loved the constellations.

"Let me just go tell Mother."

He nodded. "Hurry back."

We decided to go to the beach.

& & &

The world looked so different at night. Everything seemed to come to life. Or maybe that was because of the guy standing next to me. The full moon was our night light, as we walked by the rolling waves. The stars danced in the sky, and the crickets were our private orchestra. Why did I always feel like I was walking through a dream, when I was with Daniel? We couldn't seem to stand even an inch apart from each other. My head was resting against his shoulder, while his arm was wrapped around me. Ah, I never wanted this to end. 

It wasn't only the physical contact with Daniel, that I didn't want to end. There was so much more to it then that. When I was close to him, it was as if I had another half of someone's heart, beating in my chest. We communicated without words. We didn't need to speak. Being with each other was enough. Oh, how I wished that every person in the world could feel as special as I did with Daniel. Was I just being a foolish school girl? Who knew. I certainly didn't feel like one. 

After walking for who knows how long, Daniel suddenly stopped. He turned me to face him, and his hands began to gently stroke my arms. I touched his cheek, and slowly traced his features with my finger tips. His strong jaw, his kissable lips. He made a path of soft butterfly kisses to my mouth, and took it greedily. I found myself kissing him back with wild abandonment. I pulled back quickly, when I felt something strange. My innocent eyes drifted downward, and I saw his arousal. His eyes were dark with that look again, and I thought crazily, knew somehow, that mine were darkened with that same look. 

I took a step towards him and put my slender arms around his neck, giving him a light kiss. His breathing was raspy against my hair, and I had to fight to control my own. Being this close to him, was beginning to drive me mad. It was a foreign feeling, and one that I knew only Daniel could sate. He put me away from him, only slightly, and stared into my eyes. 

"Are you sure about this?" It took me a minute to clear my hazy mind, and then I thought long and hard. _Was_ I ready for something like this? 

I gazed at him steadily. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life." 

That night, we made love on the beach, under the stars. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Clara Dawson**

**A/n: _Since the last chapter was a bit of a flop, I edited it. And then I changed it back, still edited. And I'm still debating whether or not to change it back. Was it a very bad idea, having that happen so soon? Or at all? And I'm beginning to wonder, and know, are you guys only reading this for the Jack and Rose reunion? Probably, and that's okay. I just had to say it. Sorry if I seem to be in a bit of a bad mood, I've just had one of those days. Anyway, thank-you for your reviews, I'm grateful, as always._**

**_CarterAbbyCarby: Yeah, thought some people might think it was him. And, thanks!_**

**_Dawsongurl: Well, thanks a lot! Yeah, he is a great guy. Hey, who knows, maybe you'll marry someone like him. :-D_**

**_EverAfter89: Hey, thank-you. And I'm glad that you're a grammar Nazi, as you said. That would have driven me crazy, lol, thanks for pointing it out. I didn't even realize I had put that._**

**_Titanicobsessed: Yeah, I was feeling a bit the same about the chapter. Thanks for being honest._**

**_randomfanwritter: Thanks, lol. I've been doing that a lot, huh? And thanks for telling me about errors that I had, that is most appreciated, really. _**

**_Lady Forest aka Rachel Snape: Yeah, I wasn't really too sure about it. And thanks so much!_**

**_Mrs. McCartney: I'm updating, so, don't die! lol_**

_**-Edited 2-**_

**Chapter Fifteen **

I looked into the mirror the morning after, for a sign that I had changed. I certainly _felt_ different. Like a woman, almost. My lips were still bee-stung from Daniel's kisses, and my cheeks flushed. I had gotten home four or five hours ago, and hadn't slept for a minute. I was apprehensive to go downstairs. Would my mother notice something different about me? If she did, how would I answer? I had no idea. I quickly got dressed; ran a comb through my hair; grabbed my sketch pad; and dashed for the kitchen. My mother wasn't up yet. Breathing a sigh of relief, I scrawled a note to her, and placed it on the table. Just in case, I also grabbed the wrapped up piece of cake I had set aside for Jack. A twinge of disappointment shot through me. I couldn't believe he hadn't come!

As I meandered down to the beach, I thought I might just tell him so. If I ever saw him again, that was. As I sat down in the sand, I almost blushed. I hadn't been here long ago. Not long at all. I stared down at my sketch pad, trying to figure out what to draw. And suddenly, the pencil just started to move. My hand moved with precise strokes, to first create a leg. And then a pair of legs wrapped around each other. I was drawing from memory. The world around me disappeared. All sound, all color. My vision filled with images of hands. Large hands gliding down smooth skin, smaller ones tangled in soft, brown hair. And eyes. Oh, those eyes stole all my attention. Deep green holding captive water blue. Our eyes had been locked together the entire time. Sighs and gasps filled my ears. And then my hand became tired, and the pencil dropped to the page. The memory slowly bled away, as I was brought back to reality. I looked at my drawing, and this time I did blush. Well, I was definitely getting older. Moving onto different, erm, subjects.

In fact, it was rather racy. And yet, it was the most beautiful thing I had ever drawn. The most precious. I heard shuffling footsteps in the sand, and nearly flung my sketch pad into the ocean, in my haste to close it. What would people think if they saw it? And yet, at the same time, I didn't care. That drawing was for my eyes only, meant for no one else but me. And it would remain that way. Jack sat down next to me.

"So, what was that you were drawin'? I've been watching you and you were so intent on it, you didn't notice me."

I looked at Jack, acting nonchalant. "Nothing important. Just a few clouds."

He looked at me with a raised brow, but said nothing more. I was grateful. We both knew that I hadn't raised my head up once. After a few minutes of awkward silence, I decided to confront him about yesterday. I handed him the piece of cake.

"For you. It was left over from my cake. You _did_ want a piece, didn't you?"

He had the grace to wince. "Yeah, thanks. About that-"

"Why didn't you come?" I hadn't meant to snap at him.

"If you'd calm down a minute, I could tell you." I had that coming.

I nodded. "Fine, I'm calm. Do go on."

"I had some issues to deal with."

"And what were those _issues_?" I looked into his tired, bloodshot eyes and got my answer.

"It was about _her_, wasn't it?" Jack nodded.

"I'm so sorry, Jack. Really, I am."

"No need to be. I'm just sorry I missed seeing this cake in all its glory."

I laughed. "It _was_ rather nice."

"Now we got the way it looked down, but how did it _taste_?"

"Even better."

"My mouths already waterin'."

I laughed again, and then became serious. "If you ever need to talk, Jack, I'm a good listener."

He nodded soberly. "Maybe someday, I will. For now, I'm not ready to share her with anyone else."

Aww, I thought. And then something came out of my mouth, before I realized I was saying it. "Was it true love?"

He sighed. "If there's such a thing, then yeah, what we had was."

My face scrunched up in wonder. "But, how do you _know?_"

His head snapped around, and he eyed me suspiciously. "Why are you askin' that? Is it that Daniel boy again?"

I laughed at him. Jack was acting like he was my father! "Yes, it is. Now, tell me!"

He looked at me narrow-eyed, and then up into the sky. "You just know, Clara. It's a feeling in your gut. It's when you can't stop thinking about them, and your heart jumps every time you see them. It's when there's a spark between you; a jolt. Something powerful."

He went on, "It's when you stop thinking of only yourself, and start including them into your life's plans. It's something you know you'll _never_ feel with another soul. It's when your being combines with theirs, and it makes you _more_ whole."

He sighed. "It happens when you least expect it, too. You never see it coming, but when it does, you know: that's the end. Your heart isn't yours anymore. It belongs to that other person."

My eyes filled with tears. He had lost that. Lost all he'd described. I couldn't even imagine how it felt to be so lost. And Jack _was_ lost. He reminded me of a ghost, wandering the earth in despair.

I wiped my cheeks free of tears, and forced the quiver from my voice. "Well, we have a poet on our hands."

He laughed. "No, just a has-been artist. I have something for you, by the way."

I knew he had just ended all talk of love. "What is it?"

He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a piece of paper. I took it from him.

As I unfolded it, I gasped. "Jack! It's-It's-"

"Bad?"

I looked at him incredulously. "No! No, not at all! It's wonderful…uncanny!"

It was a sketch of me, staring out into the setting sun with a dreamy look in my eyes. "Ah, I'm a little rusty. I haven't drawn in years."

Why on earth not? I wondered.

"I love it, Jack. Thank-you."

"You gave me a reason to draw again, Clara. Even if it's only one drawing. Happy birthday."

"Well, why does it have to be the only one? Why don't you take it up again? You have talent and obviously love it. So, what's the problem?"

"That part of my life has been over for years, Clara."

"But, you just said so yourself. I gave you a _reason_ to draw again, which means you want to."

He didn't respond. Oh, so he was starting this again, was he? Well, I wouldn't let him!

"What was the reason you stopped sketching in the first place, Jack?"

When he didn't respond, I prodded him. "Jack?"

"It was after I lost her. I couldn't bring myself to draw anything new. The last picture I drew was of her."

I think I understood. And I also thought of how long he must have held all of this inside. Was I the only one he'd ever spoken to of her? It sure seemed so. Maybe, just maybe, if he let her go, he would be set free. And able to sketch again. It would help him heal. I knew he would never forget this woman he told me had stolen his heart. But, I also knew that if their love was as strong, or stronger, than mine and Daniel's, that she would want him to be happy. And he wasn't. Lord, I always did love to help those in need.

"How long ago was that?" I was going where angels feared to tread: a man in love's broken heart. A dark, dark place. I had to be careful.

"1912." He was fighting to keep any emotion from seeping into his voice.

I touched his arm. "It's okay."

His muscles relaxed. "W-What happened in 1912, Jack?"

He stood up and paced up and down the shore for a few minutes. Just when I thought he wasn't going to tell me, he whispered this to me, scorn in his words:

"Titanic happened."

**A/n: _So, how was that? Better than last chapter? Hope so. If there were any mistakes or anything, feel free to let me know. I'll be indebted to you forever, lol. I'll update when I can, later this week. Thanks, guys._**

_**Rory**_


	16. Chapter 16

**Clara Dawson**

**A/n:_ Hey, guys. Told you that I'd update later this week._**

**_Dawsongurl: Thank-you so much :-D_**

**_Lady Rachel Julie Snape: I see you changed your name around, lol. You have no idea how wide-eyed I got when I read that! In a good way, lol. I was like, whoa! I didn't expect that, and it meant a lot. Thanks. Oh, and they'll meet soon enough, hehe._**

**_Titanicobsessed: Thanks! Wow, did you really get teary-eyed? That makes me happy, really happy. And don't take that the wrong way, lol. It means to me, that I'm doing an okay job with the writing, if I can get emotion out of someone. So, thanks for that._**

**_Mrs. McCartney: Just a bad habit, I guess, lol._**

**_randomfanwritter: I'm relieved to hear that I improved. Thanks a lot. -smiles-_**

**_annoymous: Hey, thanks. And I'm planning on it, so don't worry._**

**_Caiden McBrien: Aw, thank-you. I will, I promise._**

_**I'm listening to Los Lonely Boys, right now. They're great, I think. Anybody else like/heard of them? Yeah, that's me just trying to strike up a conversation, lol. So, think I should just get on with the chapter now? Me too.**_

**_Disclaimer: I don't own anything Titanic._**

_**-Edited 2-**_

**Chapter Sixteen**

I've always considered myself a calm and collected person. But, when Jack uttered those two words, I couldn't stop my shudder or gasp of surprise. I'd only heard passing words of the famous Titanic my whole life, but from what I knew, it was one of the worst things that had ever happened in history. Why, there wasn't a person living today that hadn't at least _heard_ of the sunken steamer's name. Survivors of the sinking were few. And those left behind, I knew, were left with holes in their souls. What a horrible thing, to think of Jack on the sunken vessel. Thousands had died that night in the calm salt water that tickled the sand with it's waves.

Without me asking, Jack went on. "I was a street rat when I was twenty. I won a ticket aboard the ship in a game of cards. Me and my friend Fabrizio, that is. It was the finest thing I'd ever seen. But, not near as fine as the first time I saw her."

"She was so beautiful, I couldn't take my eyes off of her. Then she looked at me, only for a brief second, but I was lost from then on." His eyes were wistful. Jack was back in another time.

"The first time I ever got to hear her voice, was while she was hanging off the back of the ship. She looked so lost, so scared. Her hair was flying around all wild and tears soaked her face, but I still thought she was the most _beautiful_ creature I'd ever seen. And bossy too. Her first words to me were, 'Don't come any closer, I mean it, I'll let go.'"

"I didn't let her see it, but I was afraid that if she jumped, I'd never see her again. I'd loose her. I didn't understand why I was feeling so strongly about that. Just figured that I didn't want her death on my conscience."

"When she gave me her hand, I felt somethin' powerful. I felt like I connected with her on some level. And next thing I know, I'm being invited to have dinner with her first class family, as some sort of reward for saving her life. The only reason I accepted was because she was gonna be there."

"She tracked me down the next day, and we spent a few hours together. She spoke her heart to me, and I didn't feel worthy of it. She even saw my drawings and liked them. I was surprised enough to blush. Most first class folks would have snubbed them, but not her. She was different from all of them, and I knew it."

"After the dinner, I slipped a little note in her hand, inviting her to a party. Below decks, third class. It was the most amazing, _thrilling,_ night in my entire life. And the rest, as they say, is history."

"What happened to her, Jack? To the both of you?" He had gone this far already, I figured he should finish.

"How 'bout I tell you another time?"

"No, Jack. Finish this. You _need_ to. For her."

He nodded and turned his back to me. "When the ship sank…we were caught on board. And then the water...shit, it was _so cold._ For hours she laid on a floating door, and I stayed right by her in the water, holding her hand. I started getting drowsy, so I drifted off. Ever since I was a kid, _nothing_ could wake me up while I was sleeping. It's still that way."

"All of a sudden I couldn't breath, so I woke up. And found myself under the water. I kicked to the top, and went back to the door. She was gone. I couldn't find her anywhere. _Anywhere._ A lifeboat eventually found me paddlin' around. I didn't even find her once the Carpathia docked."

"I saw her…_friend_, though. He was looking for her too. Had no better luck than me. She froze to death in the water; probably drowned. And she was alone. She was _alone!"_

I didn't bother to hide the tears falling from my eyes this time. And neither did Jack.

**A/n:_ That was a bit short, and I wasn't too happy with it. Mostly an informative chapter, not anything major. I'll update soon, guys. Thanks!_**

_**Rory**_


	17. Chapter 17

**Clara Dawson**

**A/n:_ Hey, guys. Updating again today!_**

**_Dawsongurl: Thanks! Did you really like it? I was a little put off by it, but that's great to hear. :-D_**

**_Lady Rachel Julie Snape: Who knows, lol, maybe I am :-p Did they really? That sucks. They deleted ALL of my friend's stories, one time. Safe to say, she was beyond angry. And thanks, that's really kind of you to say. Bye!_**

_**Now I'm listening to The Killers. Not that anyone cares, lol. I'm blasting, "Mr. Brightside" LOVE that song, lol. Again, no one cares, lol. Oh, well. Here's the chappie now!**_

**_Disclaimer: Well, this before the chapter. I don't own Titanic. Okay, now here we go!_**

_**-Edited 2-**_

**Chapter Seventeen**

Two hours later, I was still at the beach with Jack. My eyes felt swollen from crying, and Jack looked worse for wear. He sat next to me now, but he was still in another world. He was tense and had fists dug into the sand. I mused on earlier happenings, and felt that somehow, I did some good. Maybe Jack could think of his love in peace now, not always of her dying in that terrible tragedy. My heart stopped. Tragedy. Titanic had been a _tragedy_. The one word kept resounding in my mind. _Tragedy, tragedy, tragedy._ And then a past conversation played itself through my memory. A conversation I had had when I was ten-years-old, with my mother:

"_Mama?"_

"_Yes, darling?"_

"_Can I ask you somethin'?"_

"_Something," she corrected. "You can ask me anything."_

"_How did my daddy die?" _

_Rose tensed. _"_Oh, honey. I don't know if-"_

"_I'm a big girl, now. You said so yourself, mama! Tell me!"_

"_Oh, alright, darling. Here, come sit with me." Her curly-haired little girl sat down on her lap. _

_Rose stroked her cheek, closing her eyes to the memories. _"_Your father died in a tragedy, Clara. A horrible tragedy."_

I ran from the beach without a word to Jack.

& & &

I charged through the door of my house, and slammed it closed behind me.

"Mum!" I yelled. "Mum, are you here?"

_Please be here,_ I thought to myself.

I searched the upstairs, the downstairs, the backyard, with no sign of her. Was she supposed to work today? I honestly couldn't remember. Actually, I couldn't remember much, save for the demanding questions ready to run from my mouth. I couldn't wait. I had to find my mother, and quick. I had a pretty good idea where she was.

& & &

The local "Broadway" was located in a small, dark building with a gigantic stage. As a young child, I had always been in awe of that stage. Now it hardly fazed me. I walked through the backstage doors, and made my way to my mother's dressing room. She had to be there, she just did! Surely my luck couldn't be all that horrible today, could it? I gave her door one sharp knock, and walked right in. Much to my relief, there was my mother, powdering her nose. She looked up at me, startled.

"Clara? What a surprise! I didn't expect to see you here!"

"I'm here for a reason, Mother. I need to talk to ask you something."

"Well, can it wait darling? I have rehearsal in a minute."

"No, it can't. It's about my father." I could see my mother's face pale, just like it had five years ago, when I had last had a serious conversation with her about my father. And right now, I meant business. My mother knew me well enough to know that.

She was about to open her mouth to say something, when the play director stuck his head in the door. "Rose, you're on."

My mother gave me an apologetic look, but couldn't hide her relief. "Alright, I'll be right out."

When the burly man was out of sight, my mother stood up and looked at me. She really did look beautiful. A long renaissance gown hugged her body, the pastel color complementing her creamy skin. Her red hair was loose, and reached her waist. I couldn't even begin to imagine what she would look like in the final version of the dress when it was done.

"We'll talk about this later. Why don't you come watch us rehearse?" The idea was tempting. I would always sit and watch her and the others rehearse when I was little, pretending I was part of another time. Whenever I came here and the stage lights came on, I always felt like I was in a living fairytale. And that's what plays were, really. Fairytales and legends and stories, come to life. I used to brag to all my classmates that _my mother_ was an actress, while most of their mothers worked in factories. It certainly got me a lot of attention. The offer to take my mind off of things for a little while and travel to another world proved irresistible. I sat in a cushioned seat, where someone from the audience would be sitting some time in the future, and watched my mother rehearse for _Romeo and Juliet_.

She was really excited about this particular play. She was cast as Juliet. And the man that had had his eye on my mother ever since she'd joined the company, was Romeo. I didn't like him. He ogled my mother too much, and flirted _way_ too much. She just gave him polite smiles. I couldn't help but wonder, though, if she _wanted_ to respond to the rather handsome, though devious, man. She'd told me once that I had no need to worry. Her co-star hardly saw her as anything more than an object, and the only man she would ever love was my father. But, maybe I was being selfish. I wanted my mother to love _only_ my father. That way, I had something of him to hold onto. Her memories of him, for I had none.

Was she lonely? I wondered. I already knew the answer to that: yes. Was she only not dating because of me? _For_ me? Should I be selfless, and give her my blessing to move on? Like I wanted Jack to do? No, she had loved my father too dearly. They had been soul mates, she always told me. And no one could hold a candle to a soul mate. Was Daniel my soul mate? My thoughts stilled, as rehearsal began. My mother's familiar voice echoed throughout the hall, as she ran her lines. With that man.

& & &

Being at rehearsal was the only thing that felt right to Rose. When she was onstage, she didn't have to be herself. And that was a blessed thing. Although, this particular play was close to her heart. Two star-crossed lovers from different families, un-able to be together, yet damning everyone else and and being together anyway. But, they _both_ died at the end. One of _them_ didn't have to wake up every single morning, and remind themselves that the one they loved was dead, after having dreamed of them. Those dreams of Jack were so _real_ sometimes, that she almost felt, for a minute, that her life now was the dream. That she was really still wrapped up in Jack's arms, safe and un-scarred. It was a constant struggle not to take her own life. If it weren't for Clara, she probably would have by now.

No, that wasn't true. She had made a promise to Jack. It had been the last promise she was ever to make to him, and she wouldn't break it now. She would live. She would grow old and see her grandchildren. Maybe even her great-grandchildren. But, she would never marry; never fall in love again. Her heart wasn't hers to give. It was in the possession of a dead man.

& & &

During rehearsal, the woman in charge of background scenery saw fit to sit next to me. Couldn't she tell that I wanted to be left alone? Apparently not. She was a fairly talented woman that had short honey colored hair, and wore specks. I loved the scenery she painted, I had to admit. It always looked so real. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see she was fixing to tell me something. And when she finally got enough courage to, she tapped my shoulder. I looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Afternoon, Miss Clara. I was just wondering something."

"And what would that be, Miss Russell?"

"Well, am I correct that you like to draw?"

"Yes, you are."

"Ah, wonderful! Well, you see, I've lost a few of my artists to sickness this past week, and I'm needing some help with the scenery…"

"And you want me to help, am I right?"

"Yes. Yes, in fact you are! So, what do you say?" I thought about it. I didn't really have anything to do, save sketch on the beach. Why not take my chance at my first real job, with my artwork? I needed experience, after all.

"Yes, I would like to help out very much."

Miss Russell put a hand to her heart. "Oh, thank heavens! I'm so relieved! I was so afraid you'd say no!"

"Not likely." She smiled at me kindly, and excused herself. I was left alone again. I allowed myself to become lost in the magic of the theater. Bliss.

**A/n:_ Well, that's all for now. If I have any grammar mistakes or what not, don't be afraid to tell me. Thanks, again. And please, review!_**

_**Rory**_


	18. Chapter 18

**Clara Dawson**

**A/n: _Hi again, everyone. I'm guessing the lot of you is wanting to strangle me for not updating right about now…''' I'm really sorry and I DO have a reason. I've been having horrible family problems, and I'm no longer living at home, but with a friend and her family. I'm glad it's summer, 'cause that means I have some time to update and all, but I'll be getting a job (hopefully) soon, and the updates may take a bit longer. But, don't worry, I promise I'll not give up on this story. Oh, and the Jack and Rose reunion WILL COME SOON. So, those of you that "can feel it coming" well, you're right. I'm building up to it slowly, so bear with me. It may take a few or more chapters, but I promise when it comes, it'll be good. I'm working hard at plotting it. And also remember, that this fic is really mainly about Clara and her life, so you are gonna be reading a lot about her…I want to thank ALL OF YOU for your reviews, and I mean it more than you can know. Your reviews are one of the few things I look forward to lately, since I really don't have many bright spots, but the few that I do have, I love. And my writing, which I've finally picked up on again, is one of them. I say that a lot, huh? Well, anyway. Thanks soooooo damn much for your reviews, I respect and love each of them. And please, do keep reviewing. I look for them all the time, lol. No matter how sad that sounds, it's true. I look forward to your feedback, good and not-so-good._**

_**With still- frozen feet from the AC,**_

_**Rory**_

_**-Edited 2-**_

**Disclaimer: _I don't own anything Titanic…you-know-who does…!_**

**Chapter Eighteen**

I stared at the paint brush intently, like it held some sacred secret. And, indeed, I wished it did. I horribly needed instructions on painting. It was the weekend, a sunny Saturday afternoon. And I was practicing my painting. Seeing as I had never tried my hand at it before, I'd decided to give it a try. My new job started at the theater in less than two weeks! I wanted to be able to help as much as I could. But so far, I was a lost cause at painting, and I had no patience for it. It was too runny, wouldn't stay in place, and I kept getting the paint all over myself. Thank-God my mother had suggested a smock. It was already a rainbow of colors. I shuddered at the thought of how my dress would have looked. Trying one more time to make a flower, only to have it come out as a red blob, I threw the paint brush at the canvas. Maybe it was being closed up in this tiny room for half of the day that was getting to me. It seemed too stuffy, too small. But, where could I go? I had to practice, of that I was determined. Think, think, think! The beach! Why not paint at the beach if I drew there? Didn't some of the greatest artists drag around their easels to beaches? And their work was marvelous! I didn't expect to be a Divinchi; I just wanted to be fairly decent at it. And if the beach always calmed me, I would be able to focus better. I whipped off my smock, grabbed a clean one and all of my supplies, and took them to the beach.

& & &

Or at least I tried to. I was having a rather difficult time carrying so many things at once. Which is why Daniel happening to be walking by, was convenient. He was across the street, probably heading home from work. I shouted to him. He turned immediately at the sound of his name and the next instant his eyes automatically locked with mine. And then he noticed all I was carrying and looked at me like I was crazy.

"Are you going to stand there and gawk or are you going to help me!"

"Oh, right! I'll be right over!" With that, he ran across the street and when he reached me, almost knocked me over.

"Hey, watch it! I drop this paint and there'll be a huge mess!"

"Sorry, sorry! What, may I ask, are you doing with all of this anyway?"

"Well, I got a job at my mum's theater and it involves a minor amount of painting…and, er, I need practice."

"That's wonderful news, Clara!"

"Yes, I suppose. But, not right now when my arms are about to fall off!"

He took part of my burden. "Better?"

"Much."

He looked at me slyly. "So, what do I get as a reward?"

"Not covered in paint!" With that, I started walking for the beach again. I know he had had a kiss in mind. But, why not let him suffer a little? Lord, was I becoming a vixen!

& & &

I stood at the easel planted in the sand, biting my lower lip. How to begin? I wanted to try and paint the ocean. I had drawn it enough times! But, it wasn't as easy as I had thought it would be. Once again, I was covered in paint! It was on my face, my cloths, even my hair! And barely any had gotten onto the canvas. I looked down at Daniel, who was seated behind me, and he started laughing till he was red in the face and had tears rolling down his cheeks. I could only glare. I had to admit, it _was_ pretty funny. I was such a lost cause in the art of painting, but I was only trying to broaden my horizons. And look at how that was going! Suddenly, another set of laughter joined in with Daniel's. My head whipped around and my eyes fell on Jack. I put my hands on my hips and gave them both an evil eye. Jack walked up to me, still smiling, and gently took the paint brush from my fisted hand. He looked at the canvas, and then at me.

"You're going about this all wrong."

"Am I? And I assume you can do better?"

"Yeah, actually."

I punched his shoulder. "Don't be cocky."

"What are you paintin' for, anyway?"

"I'll have you know that I got a job doing scenery at the theater."

"Did you now? Well, I'll have to come check it out sometime."

"I haven't even started yet!"

"Well, when you do, I'll come see it."

I sighed. "This is useless banter! Now, both of you hush or get lost. I have to concentrate!"

"Isn't that what you've been doing for the past hour, Clara?" Daniel sounded as if he were a whining five-year-old.

"Bored are you?" I asked, trying to hide the mischief in my tone. Daniel didn't seem to notice, for he nodded his head vehemently without a look of suspicion in his eyes. I took a spare paint brush and dipped it into the red paint. Daniel groaned.

"Clara, you're going at it again?" I could feel Jack staring at me. He knew I was up to something.

"Oh, yes, I _am_ going to paint something." Daniel was about to say 'what' when I pulled back the brush and let it go. Paint spattered all over his face. For a minute he sat there frozen in surprise, and then he jumped up. I watched as he dipped a finger in indigo paint, and then quick as lightning he smudged a long line down my cheek. I backed up slowly and put both my hands on my wet painting, then brought them to Daniel's face before he could pull back. I laughed at the sight of yellow and purple handprints on each of his cheeks. As Daniel reached for more paint, Jack stepped in between us.

"Alright now, kids. That's enough." Daniel and I looked at each other and nodded. Behind my back I grabbed a tube of paint and stepped away from Jack. And then I squirted half the contents onto his face. For a minute he stood with his eyes closed. Then he pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped as much as he could away. He tried to look angry, but ended up smirking.

"_That_ was a mistake." And when Jack reached for a tube, Daniel came up behind him and emptied a jar of pink paint all over him. It gave me a chance to squirt the rest of my paint tube all over Jack and head for the hills. I could hear both of them running after me. I wasn't sure who was closest and I wasn't about to turn my head to find out. I ran for the water. Maybe, if I was lucky, they wouldn't follow me in. As I reached the water's edge, I felt something cool and gooey slide through my hair. I turned and came face to face with a grinning Jack. I gave him a nasty look, and made a dive into one of the larger waves. I swam under water for a few minutes, in an effort to wash away the mess that I was. Before I could surface on my own, however, strong arms wrapped around my middle and pulled me up. I choked and sputtered on my hair, which was covering my entire face like a bride's veil.

"Are you okay?" It was Jack's frantic voice.

"I'll be fine if you let go of me," I snapped.

He did and I dunked back under, coming back up with the hair smoothed back from my face. After I scrubbed the water from my eyes, I spotted Jack, and promptly splashed him. And then I noticed how pale he was, how wild his eyes looked.

"Jack," I started slowly. "Are you okay?"

He shook his head as if trying to regain his bearings.

"Jack?" I asked again. What in the world was wrong with him? He was beginning to scare me! I swam up to him and touched his arm. He jerked away, but looked at me, now lucid.

"I'm sorry. I thought you were…" He didn't need to finish. Understanding dawned on me. He'd thought I had been drowning. With what he had been through with Titanic, I didn't blame him.

"It's okay. It's okay." I felt silly soothing the tough Jack, but he needed it at that moment.

I backed away as I heard his breathing return to normal. And then as he sat there, treading water and looking embarrassed, I splashed him again, to lighten the mood. The sparkle in his eyes, though always dim, was back. And then I nearly did drown, when he retaliated. We went on this way for at least a half hour. I felt strangely close to Jack, like I was supposed to know him. We were definitely forming a bond. An unbreakable one. It wasn't a bond like I had with Daniel. Or my mother, for that matter. Though, it was paternal. It was a bond that I had always wished for as a little girl. One with my father.

**A/n:** **_I know, it may have been a little boring. And short. But I have many more chapters already in my notebook, and I'll be posting them when I can. Thanks again, you guys. And please, review._**

_**Rory**_


	19. Chapter 19

**Clara Dawson **

**A/n: Well, hello, everyone. My god, I haven't been on this site in months. Not in the updating fics sense, anyway. My goodness, I went through a lot this summer. Still am, but hey, that's life. I even got to learn that I hate love triangles with a passion...and guys are confusing and grrrr. Yes, so anyway. I've gotten your reviews telling me to update, and now that I finally have access to my own computer, and it's 12:57 AM, I got the urge to look at my profile on this site, and then I started looking over my fics, and I want to update. I haven't really been doing much writing as of late. I've been ridiculously busy, and the writing I did do was original fiction, not really any fanfics. I've written many short stories of my own, and I'm actually sending in for a free writing test with this school...hopefully I'll pass it, because if I do, I'll be able to work with the amazing teachers there and get feedback on my writing...and they'll teach me about the publishing world, what kind's of things that will sell in market, blah blah. All I care about is being able to write. Anyway, I have a three-day weekend, and I may update again besides this one chapter, but I can't honestly promise anything. I need to bring myself back to life again, so to speak...been feeling a bit dead inside...unlike myself. But I have to admit, it does feel good to be back. And I hope you're not all too frustrated with me to review. I'll be looking. Even if it's just to yell at me. **

**-sigh- I'll be seventeen on October 16th, next Sunday. In seven days. I'm not even looking forward to that anymore. It's my birthday, for goodness' sake. I just don't know anymore. **

**I'm guessing you're all anxious for me to shut up and get on with the long postponed chapter nineteen. Well, wish granted...here you go... **

**Disclaimer: Don't own anything Titanic... **

**Chapter Nineteen **

Daniel had been watching the whole time. I could feel the heat of his gaze on me, as Jack and I's water battle subsided. Oddly, before I turned to look at him, I knew he was smiling. Laughing, even. I looked at Jack and signaled that I would be back in one minute. I swam a few meters near shore, and crooked my finger at Daniel.

"Why don't you come in? Afraid?" I taunted.

He shook his head. "I have a better chance of surviving in the tub, thanks."

I laughed. "Oh, so it _is_ that you're scared!"

I splashed him quickly, stuck out my tongue, and dove under the water and back to Jack. He was smiling tenderly. I knew that look. It was the look my mother always gave me when she saw me with Daniel. He was 'awing' over the sight of young love. And _that_ was how my mother had put it. I liked having a father figure in Jack. Though he could never replace my father, he was the only one I knew. And it was all the easier to pretend, at moments, that he was my _real _father, as they both had the same name.

Suddenly, I shrieked. It was cold. And it made my hair sopping wet again. Just when the sun had begun to dry it, too!

I growled, "Daniel!" And then I was racing after him. The calm ocean waves turned chaotic. If Jack and I had had a mere fight, Daniel and I were having an all-out war.

My limbs were growing tired, and my dress heavy. But, I was determined to get my revenge. Having learned to swim when I was very young, I was a rival for Daniel's long strokes. And I was also very sneaky. So, while the love of my life's back was turned, I pounced on his back, pushing him under. He came up choking and laughing. And as he recovered, I headed for shore.

& & &

The sand was hot and grimy beneath my feet. Oh, they would be covered in sand! How would I get it all off before I got home? I looked down at my dripping dress. Not that it would do much good. I must look like a drowned rat! But, I was happy, and that's what mattered. I hadn't even been thinking of the dreaded conversation with my mother. And it _was_ dreaded. I think I knew now, how my father had died. And I needed her to tell me I was wrong. Though, I had the feeling she would do quite the opposite. I took a spare smock from my paint box, and began to dry my face and my hair. I dragged my fingers through the long waves best I could, then found a piece of cloth and tied them back. It took me all of five minutes while Jack and Daniel were getting out of the water. They were laughing with each other as they walked towards me, and I wondered if that's what my father would be doing, were he alive. And then I forced myself to smile, when I didn't much feel like it, as Daniel came and gave me a big, wet hug. When he pulled away, I almost asked him not to. I desperately needed comfort. I was growing anxious about finally learning the truth behind my father's death. Maybe it would explain my dream, or nightmare, more like. I had had it again, the night I had seen my mother's rehearsal.

_I was floating. And cold. So, so, very cold. But, I fought to hold on. There was someone that needed me. That I didn't want to loose. I was grasping something that felt frozen, and I had the crazy notion that it was someone important's hand. It was dark, and there were stars. All was quiet, except for one person's sweet sounding voice. They were singing a very familiar tune, and the **voice** even seemed familiar. _

_"And it's up she goes, up she goes..." _

_Whoever it was, sounded weak, and I willed them to keep singing. I needed the hear their voice. It was like my tether to the world. Keeping me from giving into the fatigue that was overwhelming my body. And then someone was desperately shaking me, screaming a name I couldn't hear. And I wanted to respond. I tried to move my lips. But, it was like they were sewn shut. Suddenly, I wasn't floating anymore, I was drifting. My body was limp, my movements not my own. I couldn't breathe. I snapped open my eyes, and saw nothing but darkness. I knew automatically, instinctively, that I was under water. I started making for the surface, but I was choking. I needed air, I needed it badly... _

I snapped out of my reminiscing when Daniel snapped his fingers in front of my face. I looked to Jack, whose eyes were narrowed, and then to Daniel, whom looked scared.

"What?" I asked, confused.

"Are you all right, Clara? You've been going off into your own world a lot lately."

I rubbed my temples. "I'm fine, Daniel. I just have a lot on my mind."

"Care to share?" It was Jack who said this, and a flash of my dream appeared before my eyes. This time I wasn't the person drowning. I was _seeing_ the person that was drowning. I couldn't make out a face, but it was like I knew them...

"Clara?" Jack interrupted.

I jumped. "Uhm, no. Sorry. I really have to go..."

I frantically started grabbing for my things, but before I could get my easel, it was snatched away. I looked up at Jack, flustered.

"Why don't I help you with all this stuff?"

I opened my mouth to refuse, but something in his eyes stopped me. They said he wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Sure, that would be kind of you. Daniel, are you going to come over?"

He shook his head. "I have to get home. My parents said they had to talk to me about something over supper." He pulled me into his arms, and kissed my forehead.

"Get some rest, love. I'll see you tomorrow."

"All right," I said, pulling out of his arms and kissing his cheek.

And then Jack and I headed for my house.

**A/n: That took me till 2 AM to finish, geese. I'm tired. Probably one of my most boring, mundane, and short chapters ever, but the next one is maddd long. Yupp, I said madd. Anyway, please review? As an early b-day present before October 16th gets here! lol Still can't believe I'm turning seventeen, and I'm a junior. Grr, and studying like mad to get my permit, so I can get my license which I desperately need. Anyway, I'll let you all go. I'll try to update sooner than last time. :-D**

**Oh, and I want to thank Anne Blair for putting Clara Dawson on her amazing website, Anne's Story Page. And for the amazing and beautiful graphic she designed to go along with the story. It truly meant a lot. :-D  
**

**-Rory  
**


	20. Chapter 20

**Clara Dawson**

**A/n:** **Why do I always get the urge to update at insane hours of the morning? It's 1:05 am...and I have to get up at five for school. I'm watching Titanic right now...and I really think I should update. I'm a bad authoress...I've taken too long, and made you think I'm going to abandon this. I can assure all of you, that will never happen. I'm just very, very busy. When I update, it's rare. But I'm going to try harder, when I get free time, to update. Before I start working two jobs this summer. -sweat drops- I want to say thank-you from the bottom of my negligent heart, for reviewing, and staying faithful to my story and even reading it in the first place. You guys are all the absolute best. It makes me smile like nothing else can, when I get a review, and when I update. So, before I post the chapter...I want to ask you all how you are. So, how are you?**

**Oh, and thanks to all of you for the happy birthdays...from four months ago! It was really sweet of ya'll. It made me happy. -big smile-**

**Ooookay, well...time for the disclaimer, and then, finally, without further ado, the chapter.**

**-Edited 2-**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing _Titanic. _And that's that.**

**Chapter Twenty**

Jack and I talked all the way to my home. Just about silly stuff, really. Part of me just wanted him to go, so I could curl up in my bed and sleep. But another part told me it was vital, for some reason, that he see my house. Maybe he could even meet my mother. As I unlocked the door, Jack looked around the porch. He seemed to be looking for something. I led him to the studio, which my mother had had put in for me when she discovered that I could draw. He took one look at the left wall, and whistled.

"Looks like you got a hold of this, too."

I laughed. "Oh, leave me alone. So, I may not be the _best_ painter, but-"

"May not be the best painter? You're closer to a tornado than a painter!"

He was lucky I saw the teasing glint in his eyes. "Very funny!"

He nodded. "I know. So, where do you want these?"

I pointed to the paint splattered wall. "Over there, if you please."

For such a world weary, gruff looking man, he was surprisingly gentle with the art supplies.

Now I shrugged. "So, would you like to see the house? My mother may be home any minute, perhaps you'd like to meet her..."

He shook his head. "Maybe another time. I need to talk to you about something."

"Oh, well, go ahead."

"Do you know somewhere we can go? I don't want anyone to over hear."

"There's no one here..."

"Didn't you just say your mother would be home any minute?"

I nodded. "Right. Well, I suppose we could go back to the beach. It'll be deserted around this time."

"I know. We were just there."

"Well, if you had to talk to me, then why didn't you while we were still there?"

"I wanted to get Daniel away."

"Oh."

"Look, it's not what you're thinking. It's about a dream I had. I think it means something, and you're involved in it."

A dream? This was all about _a dream?_ What kind of lunatic was-

I stopped. Who was I to think that of Jack when I was being haunted by a dream myself?

"All right. Well, Daniel won't be at the beach anymore, so we can go."

"Then let's get outta here."

& & &

I practically ran all the way to the beach, in my anxiousness to hear what Jack had to say. What kind of dream was he having, and why did he think I was involved? It was all very eerie. The sun would be setting soon, and my mother would grow worried. Or she would assume I was with Daniel. Either way, we had to do this quickly.

We both sat down simultaneously in silence. I looked at him expectantly.

"All right. Well, this'll seem strange, but since I've met you, I've had this dream. That's why I think you're involved."

Since he'd met me? What, did I have some sort of magical power or something? More eerie by the moment.

"Go on."

"Well, there's this house. A little like yours, and there's a little girl, 'bout five I'd guess, and she's laughing. I can't see her face, but I can see her mother's. And it's _her._"

It was automatic now, that I knew who Jack was speaking of when he said _her._

"So, what are you saying?"

"Do you think it could mean something?"

"Maybe, Jack. I'm not sure..."

He seemed as if he hadn't heard me.

"_What_, though? Could it be a sign? A sign that she's alive after all?"

Alive? I didn't know. Maybe. That's all I could say. All I could think. I suddenly found myself wanting to tell him about _my_ dream. And then I was.

He listened with rapt attention, hanging on my every word. I told him that I'd had it ever since I was old enough to dream. And every time it woke me up at night, how I would feel dead inside, even when I couldn't understand the feeling yet. It had haunted me my whole life, and now I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I felt like a soldier that had completed his duty. It was an odd and irrational feeling, but yet I still felt it.

Jack's pallor had changed, the further I got into the dream. He was as pale as a ghost now. He was reliving a memory. And not a pleasant one, by the looks of it. Then he was suddenly standing up and making excuses about having to be somewhere. I tried to get him to stop, but he wouldn't listen to anything I said. He just left me there, yelling:

"Jack! Jack, stop! What's going on?"

& & &

I walked home on my own, completely befuddled. If I had thought Jack was acting weird before today, then I thought he was crazy now. What if he was going insane? Could loosing someone you loved, the way Jack had loved that woman, make you take leave of your senses _completely,_ after so many years? And if so, was that going to happen to my mother? It hurt to know how little I knew about Jack, and the amount that I did. I didn't know where he lived; what he did for a living. But I did know about what he used to be; how he used to be. I was so tired of mysteries. Just so very tired. Which was why it was time to solve one right now. I knew my mother would be home.

& & &

The smell of my mother's cooking permeated the house. We must be having fish again. That seemed to be the only thing my mother could prepare, without burning. With my reminders that she had something on the wood stove, of course. There was one time she had nearly set the kitchen on fire, trying to make a turkey for our own private thanksgiving. Since then, I had become paranoid that the house would burn down. And when I had finally gotten to a suitable age where my mother thought she could teach me to cook, I ended up being more hopeless in the kitchen than she. Now she teased me about having to marry a chef when I was grown, or starve to death. But I didn't want a chef. I wanted Daniel. And he was no cook either. Amelia seemed to be the only one with culinary talent, and I could hardly marry her!

I paused in the entrance way to watch her. Rose Dawson, expert chef. And there, I'm being heavy on the sarcasm. My mother was running back and forth, from the counter to an over-boiling pot. Her red hair was pulled back, and random tendrils were flying about. She looked in disarray. Well, at least she matched the state of the kitchen. We would have _a lot_ of cleaning up to do. I wondered if it would have been like this, had my father been alive. Was _he_ a good cook? Just one of the many things I would never know about that man that helped create me.

I smiled at the sight of my mother, dispelling thoughts of him for the time being. I wanted to wait a little while, before more drama began. Funny, lately that's all seemed to have been filling my life. I sensed that there was more to come. I grabbed an apron off of the hook on the pantry door, and went to help. I took the knife from her, as she ran to check on the fish, and began to chop vegetables. Carrots tonight. My thoughts drifted to Daniel, as they always did, and how much I would have liked to have him here tonight. But he was having dinner with his family, a rare thing during the past couple of years. I wondered just _what_ they had to talk to him about.

Dinner was bland as usual, but I hardly noticed. My mother and I laughed and talked the entire time, distracting my previous track of mind. It was nice to be so very close to my mother. And it filled me with guilt that I should ruin this happy moment. But I had no choice. It was time.

**A/n: I need to get to bed, and the next chapter is longer than this one was. I was reading over it, and I really want to post it this weekend. So keep an eye out. And I don't want to beg for reviews, so I won't...buuttt...please review!**

**The movie is over now, and the song makes me want to cry. :-(**

**Thanks again, you guys. **

**Rory**


	21. Chapter 21

**Clara Dawson**

**A/n: Heya, guys! I told you I would update this weekend...and I'm pretty excited about it, too. I have no idea why, but hey, I am, so that's great, lol. I want to tell you all thank-you, thank-you, THANK-YOU for all the reviews. You're all the best...and I'm sorry for getting your hopes up like that about Jack and Rose...but you'll come to see I've got my own plan for this story...so the best thing to expect would be to..._expect nothing_! lol I'm a nut...sorry. I know you don't want to hear about my life...but I just let this guy I really liked go...after many, many months. Long story, but let's just say he sucks...and he's not worth my time anymore! -big smile- It's nice to finally let him go. Yeee-haw...! Ahem. Sorry. What say you we get onto the newest chapter? I have a feeling I'll be done typing it in oh, say three hours after writing this little note...heh heh.**

**Much, much love,**

**Rory**

**-Edited 2-**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing _Titanic_. Mhmm.**

**Chapter Twenty-one**

I shuffled my food around on my plate, and tried to find the words to begin this. I couldn't find any that seemed worth saying enough to ruin the happy mood my mother was in. I was always, _always_ thinking of others, dammit. Why not think about _my_ needs for once? I put my fork down and forced myself to look at her. Best to be abrupt about it, I supposed. Catch her off her guard. Give her no time to think up some lie to comfort me. I wanted the truth, and I was going to get it, so help me!

"Did he die on Titanic, Mum?" Her fork clattered to the floor at my words.

She wouldn't look at me, but she had gone as white as a sheet.

"Wh-What did you say?"

"Did my father die on Titanic?" I couldn't keep the impatience from my voice.

My mother looked like she wanted to cry. "How did you know about that?"

"Know about Titanic? I've always _known_ about it, Mum. I'm not daft. The idea just recently dawned on me that my _father_ could have been on it. And you. The time frame fits. I've figured it over and over in my head millions of times. Tell me the truth. _Did he die on Titanic?_"

"Yes." She said this so, so quietly. And then she got out of her seat, and walked to her room like a zombie. I heard her crying all through the night.

& & &

I was angry at the world, and I never wanted to see it again. I didn't want to see _anyone_ again, and I didn't know if the feeling would ever pass. I hadn't been able to take my mother's muffled sobs, or the guilt that came to me through them. All I wanted to do was comfort her, but I knew I was the cause of it. I had snuck out my window, like some burglar, for the first time in my life.

I didn't even want to see the beach. Or, even, Daniel. Knowing I could disappear in the crowds, I decided to go into town and 'enjoy the night life'. I wasn't in the mood to be around people, but I knew I would be faceless to them. And that's just what I needed. Surprisingly, many people were indoors tonight. Usually, there would be a huge crowd around the pub. Now there were barely six men standing there. They whistled as I passed, and I knew they were drunk, so I ignored it. I was in a daze, really. And I didn't know what to do. I didn't realize that I had wrapped my arms around myself, in a protective gesture, either. I didn't realize how distressed I really was, until my attention was taken back to Earth by my bumping into someone.

I expected to fall to the ground, and I almost hoped that I would break a bone in the process. That I would feel _something_ besides numb and dazed. It didn't happen. Hands grabbed my arms to steady me, and without looking up or apologizing, I shoved them off, and began to jog away. I had no choice but to stop when I heard Jack's voice telling me to do so. He sounded wary, confused, and even a bit angry. Weren't you always supposed to recognize things like that in a person's voice _only_ when you knew them like the back of your hand? Well, it wasn't that way with Jack. It seemed almost instinctual, to recognize the tones of his voice. The strange feeling that it was _natural_, again came over me.

I may have stopped, but I didn't turn around, ready to sprint away at any minute. He must have sensed it because he grabbed my arm and dragged me for blocks, to some small and run-down house. He unlocked the door, and I guessed it was his home. He didn't let go of me, until he had shoved me into a cushy chair, and sat down on a couch across from me, glaring daggers. I ignored him.

His house was small, but quaint. Very...Jack. My chilled nerves were warming up by the burning fire in the hearth, and I was coming back to my senses. I still felt Jack staring at me. And I _knew _I was in trouble. A surge of anger shot through me. Who did he think he was, being angry with me? He wasn't my father! My father was _dead._ _Dead, dead, dead!_ I couldn't hold back anymore. I began to sob, like a little girl whose dreams had been broken. And they had, in a way. I had always had some hope that _maybe_ my father wasn't really dead after all, only a little lost. And that someday he would find my mother and I, and everything would be okay. Not having an explanation of his death, had given me hope. And now that I had one, that hope was squashed. I wanted to see him, hear him, _just once._

I covered my face in my hands, and I fought to control the tears. It wasn't working. I felt Jack lift me into his arms, and go back to the sofa. He held me close, and told me that whatever was going on, it'd be okay. He was there, and I'd be fine. It was the first time I had ever cried for my father, and Jack was telling me that it was okay to grieve, even though he didn't know that I was. And a weight was being lifted from my heart, at the same time. Somehow, Jack had become my father. And I was finally being held by him, like my real father never got to do, like I never got to know. And I finally felt a sense of security, a protection, I had never known. And besides all that, Jack didn't seem angry anymore.

& & &

I was wrong, about the Jack not being angry part. After I had calmed down, and dried my tears, he had looked, again, like he wanted to throttle me. And I didn't mind. It actually made me feel cared for; like he was my father even more. His feelings were completely paternal, and I once again wondered how a basic stranger, could have a bond with my like that.

He wanted an explanation, I knew. I got up from the sofa and went to stand in front of the fire place, staring into the flames. Where to begin?

I didn't have to worry about that, as Jack made the first move.

"Why in hell were you out this late at night? In _town?" _Well, I wasn't the only abrupt person in this world!

"I-I was just walking, and-"

"Horse shit, Clara. Give me something more believable." I was offended by his choice of words, but they told me just how angry he was.

"Fine, then. I don't know _what the hell _I was doing!" _He _now seemed startled by my loud voice.

"All right, let's both calm down here. What's goin' on? Why were you just crying your heart out a minute ago?"

The tables had turned. Jack was now the one trying to help _me._ And I, personally, was in no mood for any help.

"It's nothing, Jack. I need to get home, before my mother finds I'm gone-"

"Oh, so you _sneaked_ out, did you? That sounds like me when I was your age."

"Nice to know. But, I really do have to go-"

"Stop. Right. There." My feet froze.

"You're not going anywhere until you give me some sort of an explanation, Clara. And then I'll _walk you_ home."

I opened the door. I didn't know what was coming over me. I had never been this defiant of _anyone._ I'd never been reckless. But the guilt and the wariness was just too much for me. I was worn out.

"I'm sorry, Jack. But, honestly, I don't have to listen to you."

I had a sleepless night.

& & &

Jack wanted to hit something. What the hell was going on with him? He'd always been good with kids, but he'd never thought of himself as being capable of being a father. This girl was bringing something out of him. He wanted to _kill her_ and protect her all at once. Throw her over his knee, and comfort her all at the same time. He had a connection with this young girl, that went far beyond the short friendship they had. She was having dreams, just like him. A dream that sounded so much like that damning night. And he was having dreams of a house that, had he not been more logical, was hers. Just to remember that dream, to see Rose's face alive with that vibrancy, that fire he so remembered, brought painful tears of grief to his eyes. And that little girl. He almost thought that she could have been theirs, hadn't some fancy ship marketed on a lie, torn them apart.

They had said it was unsinkable. God had a funny sense of humor. Just had to prove them wrong. Horribly wrong. He had had nothing but the clothes on his back, and his best friend when he'd first boarded Titanic sixteen years earlier. And by the time he'd traded the Titanic for the freezing North Atlantic, he'd both gained and lost everything that would ever matter to him in the world: Rose DeWitt Bukater. Something in him had died with her that night. He'd been so self-possessed, self-assured and witty at twenty. Now at thirty-six, he was a man haunted by his past. Not even the fire that had killed his parents when he was fifteen had done this to him. He'd always been like the wind: adept to change. He'd always been able to get himself by.

Now, until Clara, he'd been a ghost of his former self. Walking the Earth, but not alive. Meeting this girl, all that was changing. Jack Dawson, though much changed, was slowly coming back. He sighed and looked into the dying fire. He had come to California, of all places, about a year ago to finally settle down because that was where he and Rose were going to go when the ship docked. He'd figured it was as good a place as any to live out the rest of his life. In a way, he felt it brought him a little closer to her. He had a stable job at an art museum not far from this shack he liked to call home. Hopefully, he'd be promoted to curator, if he was lucky. Not that he needed the money, he'd never much cared for the stuff. It was just some work to give him something to do.

He'd been thinking about Rose more, as of late. And besides that, he was having that dream. He ran a hand through his already tosseled hair. The only reason he'd been out this late was because the damned dream had woken him up, and he couldn't get back to sleep. It was a good thing, too. Who knew what that flighty hellion of a teenage girl would have gotten herself into, otherwise. Why had she been out, in the first place? He'd never gotten an answer. He intended to do just that the next time he saw Miss Clara, whenever that would be.

**A/n: Omg, this chapter sucked so horribly at the end! I had to write it from memory. It seems that I stopped writing this chapter in my notebook at the word 'hadn't', and had to go from there, months and months after the chapter is written. And of course, it came out like crap. I'm so mad. The whole chapter did. But, hey I'll be able to update a bit more now, who knows. Yes, I'm ranting, I'm sorry. Anyway, this chapter was heavy on the drama, but that's one of the genres...and I fully intend to live up to both...or more. Please review and tell me what you thought of the Jack part...I sorely need to know. I may rewrite it, I don't know. Ack, I'm really tired, so I'm gonna go. Maybe an update tomorrow. I'll be plotting all night.**

**And much thanks, to you all, once again.**

**Rory**


	22. Chapter 22

**Clara Dawson**

**A/n: Yup, like I told you, I was pretty much plotting all night. Waking up, thinking about the direction of the story, and then going back to sleep. That happened about...twenty times, lol. So, thank-you for the reviews...and I'm sorry I was ranting about the state of the chapter...having to write the last bit from memory just threw me off, that's all. But I'm over it...and I'd better get to updating, otherwise _Lady Julie Snape_ is going to send all these vampires after me...but Aragorn and Legolas, well, send them my way...even if they want to turn/kill me. Hehe. At least I'll die happy! ;-) But, just in case...I'm gonna update now!**

**Disclaimer: Like I've said a billion times before: I OWN NOTHING TITANIC. Okies then?**

**lol**

**Chapter Twenty-two**

My mother slept in the next day, and I was up at dawn, ready to run out the door. I couldn't face her yet, after what I'd done, and I was convinced that I would be the last person she would want to see. So, when I heard her moving around in her bedroom, getting dressed, I dashed out the door, not even bothering to bring my sketch pad with me. I didn't walk in the direction of the beach, as I normally would, but towards Daniel's house. It'd been hours since I'd seen him, and even though I was sure he was at church with his parents, as it was Sunday morning, I just wanted to see his house. I could be close to him that way, for a little while, till that would no longer be enough, and I would long for the real thing. At least he wouldn't hate me. I was appalled at the way I had acted towards Jack last night. What had come over me? It was best just to forget the whole affair, I decided. And maybe Jack would, too. Who knew, by the time I saw him next, maybe I would even be sixteen. Not likely, but you never knew with Jack.

I walked through Daniel's neighborhood, looking at all the perfectly kept houses, and smiled. I'd always loved these houses. They were small, but beautiful. And close together. Mine was gigantic, and had more rooms than my mother and I often knew what to do with. Our neighbors were sometimes miles away. When I had a family of my own someday, I wanted a fair sized house, that had character to it. It was nice living in an old colonial-like villa, but my tastes were more simple. Kind of like my mother's, I supposed. The house we lived in was decorated with life and color, but meant to downplay the grandness of the house. It was a nice combination.

When I reached Daniel's yellow house, I was surprised to see his father trimming the front lawn. And even more surprised at finding Daniel coming from the backyard, bags of what I assumed were grass or leaves grasped in his hands, and shirtless. My heart leapt at the sight of his bare chest. The muscles that were already forming hinted at the buff man he would someday be. Though Daniel was clearly bred for a life in the office, he kept himself in shape with tennis. Typical of men like that, but Daniel played the game with a ferocity, like his life depended on it, unlike the other men who just played to pass the time. He did that with everything he took on in life. It only made me love him more.

When Daniel looked up and saw me, he smiled and dropped the bags, running over to me. He scooped me up in his arms, and twirled me around, kissing me full on the lips. Once he set me down, I looked over at his father and blushed. What had come over him?

"Clara, I didn't expect to see you today!" He grabbed my arms, and pulled me closer to him.

"But I'm glad you're here," he whispered in my ear. A tingle went down my spine.

"I-I just needed to see you, that's all. Why aren't you at church?"

A shadow passed over his face, but it was gone so quickly, I was sure I was just seeing things. "Dad just wanted to clean up the house a bit. It needed some fixing up."

I nodded. I didn't care why he was home, I was just glad he was. I had needed to hear his voice so badly. My eyes filled with tears. Of course Daniel noticed.

"Clara? What's wrong?" I just shook my head and buried my face in his neck. His arm came around my waist, and he started guiding me towards his house. He told his father he would be back out soon, and took me inside. The sounds of children laughing filled my ears, and the smell of some delicious treat being baked filled my nose. I immediately calmed down. The atmosphere of Daniel's house was always so welcoming. His mother was one of the sweetest ladies I knew, with her mousy brown hair always up in a bun, and a smile on her pleasantly round face. And his two younger sisters always reminded me of myself at their age. Theirs was the kind of family I had always wished for.

I said a brief hello to his mother, as I was guided up the stairs, and into his room. He left me for a moment to put on a shirt, and then he was sitting next to me on his bed, and brushing hair that had fallen out of my braid, from my face. Without him even asking me what was wrong again, I told him about my night, leaving out the part about the dreams. That may be just a little hard for Daniel to understand. I barely understood it myself yet. When I was done, he just pulled me into a hug, and kissed my forehead.

"I don't think your mother hates you, Clara. You're her daughter. Nothing you could ever do would make her hate you. And as for that man Jack, he seemed fond of you as well. Maybe he's a little angry, but that doesn't mean he hates you. It's understandable. You were upset about your father. It's _perfectly_ understandable, sweet." I didn't say anything back, just kept my face buried in his neck, holding him tight, drawing strength from his body. If a thousand years passed, if the world ended, this would be the only boy I would ever truly love.

& & &

Rose woke up feeling groggy and out of sorts. She'd spent the whole night crying for Jack. That had been the first time in many years she had heard the name Titanic spoken. It had brought with it a flood of memories she had blocked out long ago, and wished had remained that way. And to hear it come from her daughter, of all people. She had wanted to protect Clara from the truth. She had wanted her little girl to think her father had died in a nice warm bed, not frozen to death in the middle of an ocean, among thousands of other people. It was still hard for _her_ to swallow. She couldn't get the vision of her lover's pale face and ice coated hair out of her mind. That had been Jack, the man that had pulsed with a love for life at one time. That had been the man she loved, with no trace of life left to love in him. That had been the very last time she had touched Jack. Kissed Jack. _Seen_ Jack. Everyday she woke up, and wished he was there laying beside her. Just like he never would be.

Once she had gotten herself dressed, and had her breakfast, she went up to Clara's room and knocked. The door creaked open. Her daughter wasn't in there. A shock of worry jolted it's way through Rose's body, and she pushed it down. Her little girl was probably at the beach, or with one of her friends. She would be home sometime later. Of that Rose was sure. It was just strange. Clara usually left her a note as to where she was going, if she didn't talk to her herself. This time there was no note, just an unlocked front door, and an unmade bed. She didn't want to think about the pain Clara must be in right now, she just wanted to talk to her child, and work through it. Hold her close to her, and tell her how much she knew her father would have loved her. _Did_ love her.

Rose wiped a tear from her cheek and grabbed her coat. Autumn was almost here, and that brought her a little closer to next summer, when the play would finally be ready to be performed. Today she had to go down to the art museum and gather some ideas for the new costumes. The costume maker was constantly changing her mind, and Rose was constantly lending her her good sense of fashion. Something she still had from her life as a first class lady.

She locked the door behind her, and prepared herself for a day at the local art museum.

& & &

I woke up to someone gently shaking me. I rubbed my eyes and looked around me, forgetting where I was. And when I saw Daniel's face, it all came back to me. He had held me for such a long time, that I couldn't remember ever being upset. I felt much better. He was the one that told me I should get some rest, that I looked ready to drop. And he'd been right. As soon as my head had hit the pillow, I was out. For more than four hours, it seemed.

"Time for dinner, Clara. Mom set a place for you. Get yourself fixed up, as I'm sure you'll want to do, even though I think you look beautiful just the way you are, and come down. We'll wait for you." He kissed my cheek, and closed the door behind him. I bounded out of bed. He was right, I thought, when I looked in the mirror. I did want to fix myself up. I looked a fright! My hair was sticking up in strange angles, and my skin looked tired. I took his comb and ran it through my hair, redoing my braid as quickly as I could, and then went into the bathroom and splashed some cool water on my face, smoothing out the creases in my dress. Knowing this was as good as it would get, I slowly made my way down the stairs.

"Clara!" Daniel's five-year-old twin sisters yelled in unison. They were the sweetest little angels you would ever see. One had dark blond hair, like their daddy's, and the other curly brown, like Daniel and their mother. Bright green eyes blinked up at me happily as I sat down next to them. We all held hands and said our thanks, and got to eating. Dinner at Daniel's house had always been chaotic. One person yelling over for the potatoes, a brussel sprout whizzing past your head. When Daniel and I were younger we would hide our brussel sprouts in our napkins, but his mother would always notice and make us eat them. Now I just out-and-out avoided them.

His father was the one, that, through all the chaos, tried to remain calm and put together. He was also the one the twin's targeted with spoonfuls of mashed carrots. Edward Treveali was a ruthless business man, from what I've heard. He owned a company that bought and traded stocks. Someday Daniel would inherit that business. But despite his occupation, Edward was a really admirable man. He loved his family, more than anything, and always put them first. There wasn't a time that he had ever put _his_ needs first. Except one time I would come to hate him for.

Dinner was an hour long occasion, and while his mother cleaned up downstairs, and his father went to work in his office, I helped Daniel give his sisters a bath. Unlike many youngsters, these girls loved taking baths. It was no trouble getting them in. No, it was getting them out and dressed that was the trouble. By the time we got them out, and the tub drained, Daniel and I were soaked from head to foot. I couldn't help laughing as Sarah, the younger twin, ran out of the bathroom, naked as the day she was born, and Daniel ran after her waving a towel in his hand, slipping twice on the wet floor before he got out of the bathroom. Joan, the one I was in charge of, behaved herself for me, as the twins always did. I was like their big sister, and they were the little sisters I was sure I'd never have.

Once the little angels were in bed, Daniel looked at me and started to laugh. I grew indignant for a moment, until I saw the state he was in. His light brown hair was wet and spikes randomly stood up in large chucks all around his head. On one cheek, there was a large soap sud running down, and his clothes were covered in soap as well. I was sure I faired no better. He gave me a shirt of his to wear, and brought my clothes, along with his, downstairs to be dried. After he had taken a shower, I took one of my own, and headed back to his room, feeling warm and refreshed. I stood at the door watching him read in the dim light, a look of pure concentration on his face, and smiled tenderly. How I loved him. He looked up at me, and smiled back. He got up as he put the book on his night stand, and came to me. As I stood in the shelter of his arms, I heard the door close softly and lock behind me. We looked into each other's eyes for what seemed like years, studied one another's features, and then he ran a hand over my damp hair, and brought his mouth down on my own.

As we made our way over to the bed, touching and kissing, one of us clicked the light off.

& & &

Rose hadn't had time to herself like this, in a long time. She was always working, or cleaning the house. _This_, this was a perfect day to her. She was surrounded by so many paintings, more than one could imagine, and later on she planned to have a nice dinner at her favorite cafe. In the art museum, Rose was completely in her element. She had always had an eye for art, her whole life. They were like being inside someone else's dream; they gave you a glance into someone else's mind. She found that all so amazing. A painful stab plagued her heart as she observed the section especially for Monet...the artist mutually admired by both herself and Jack. She ran her hand along the frame of one she herself used to own, and smiled. She could remember Jack pointing out the way Monet's strokes with the brush had _made_ the painting. Funny, that she would fall in love with an artist, of all things. It seemed to fit, somehow. Jack would have loved it here.

Looking for art from the period of Romeo and Juliet, so she could get the business part of her visit here over and done with, and enjoy the rest of the day, Rose looked for someone that worked there to direct her to where she needed to be. She scanned the room several times before her eyes rested on a man with short blond hair, talking to an elderly woman about a painting of a ballerina. Strange, even though she couldn't see his face, there was something familiar about him...

**A/n: I thought that was a good place to end it, as any. Hehe. Okay, I think I like the fact that I don't have any prewritten chapters for this story anymore...it gives me the freedom to go where I want with it, and come up with a few new ideas. Hope you enjoyed the chapter! ;-)**

**R-e-v-i-e-w! Por favor?**

**--Rory4**


	23. Chapter 23

**Clara Dawson**

**A/n: Hey guys, decided to update again...we've had a blizzard where I am and I'm stuck inside. I should be doing homework...but I'm not sure we'll have school tomorrow (I hope not...then I can update again!) so I'll do it later. Thanks for the reviews...oh, and _EverAfter89_, I got your review saying you didn't think that there were showers yet in the late 1920s...sooo I did some research. And there were showers as early as the 1915s...though it was uncommon for a home to have a shower before the 1920s. They had showers mostly in barracks, gymnasiums and bathhouses since at least the 1880s, but those places were mostly inhabited by men...the shower was considered harmful to a woman (the spray from the jets was thought harmful, really, to women, so only men used them) who was thought of as fragile and delicate. So, until the 1930s...women never really considered a shower, so it was rare to have one in the home. But they did have them. Hot and cold knobs and all that good stuff, too. It wasn't really until the late 20s and 30s that the idea of germs and hygiene became associated within the public mind, and then began to affect the way bathrooms in people's homes were outfitted. There were showers, as well, and very rarely and only for the very wealthy, BEFORE the 1920s in people's homes, too. So, Daniel's family, and Clara's are rather wealthy, and are from the later 1920s where a shower was becoming well known...so they could have had showers. I even saw a picture of one...it didn't have a tub with it...it was just a stand alone shower. It was pretty crazy looking...it was brass and something they called a 'Rib Shower'...water would spray from the top and sides of the shower...very cool. **

**Thanks for pointing that out...that was more appreciated than you know. I'd like to stay as true to the time as I can.**

**Much love,**

**Rory**

**-Edited 2-**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing Titanic.**

**Chapter Twenty-three**

Rose was about to walk over and ask the man's assistance, when someone tapped her on the shoulder. She whirled around, as her heart jumped in her throat, and found herself gazing into the eyes of her fellow actor, Jonathan Rudders. She fought the urge to role her eyes. Could she not be free of this man for _one minute?_ She knew he had feelings for her, despite what she told her daughter, and she always tried to be polite when she turned down his countless invitations to dinner, but her patience was running thin. Could he not get the message, already? She just wasn't interested. Apparently he was too dense, for he always seemed to show up wherever she happened to be. Even here, intruding on her day off.

"Well, Rose, hello! Imagine seeing you here!"

Rose wanted to tell him that he knew she was coming here today, perfectly well, and to stop pretending it was a purely innocent bumping into a friend, kind of thing. Instead she just smiled.

"Imagine. What are you doing here, Jonathan?"

He gave her the smile that she was sure made many-a-woman weak in the knees. Except her. "Just looking around, really. Trying to get a feel for the time era of the play, you know. You're looking for costume ideas for Annie, aren't you?"

Well, so much for his trying to make this seem like an accidental meeting. Rose wondered if he even realized he had just more or less given himself away. What a devious man. "In fact, I am. I was just about to ask someone to show me where the paintings are..."

At those words, Rose turned her head to see if the man was still there, and felt a twinge of disappointment when she saw that he was gone.

"Ah, no need for that, my good lady. I was just there. Had a man point them out to me. I think he's in line to be curator, or so I've been told."

"So, you're familiar with this place, then?"

"Not really, I just know certain people. Who would want to look at lifeless paintings more than once, anyway?"

Funny, he was starting to remind her a little of Cal. That was a definite sign to stay away from him. Cal had been devious himself, not to mention selfish, and had tried to kill her, as well. Who knew what a man like Jonathan would do? He was a damn good actor, she would give him that. But who knew when he was acting or being himself, even now, at this very moment? She didn't like people who seemed phony, and Jonathan fit perfectly in that category. That's another reason she had loved Jack so much: he had been nothing but himself, nothing but real.

She politely tolerated Jonathan as he showed her to the renaissance section, and then tuned him out as he talked about himself, as usual, and concentrated intently on each and every detail of each and every painting. And then as Jonathan was lost in a discussion about how good he thought she was as Juliet for him, Rose slipped away, onto more interesting things besides a conceited man, who worshipped the ground he walked on.

& & &

For the rest of the day, as Rose explored every inch of the museum, she kept an eye out for Jonathan, _and_ the blond man. She just couldn't shake the feeling that she somehow knew him, and she badly needed to sate her curiosity. Several times, she _just_ avoided running into that damned persistent man, who was probably looking for her. Why would he not just give up? Goodness!

It was when she was finally leaving the museum, and heading for the cafe, that she saw the man she had been looking for since she had set eyes on him. This wasn't like her, to follow a man around. But there was something so strong nagging at her, that said she _must_ follow him, that she did. The way he walked reminded her of someone, and the way he ran a hand through his short hair, that was a little too long for the times, did as well. She saw that he was about to turn a corner, and realized that she would finally get to see his face. But it was at that moment that the side walk decided to rise up from the ground and trip her. She fell flat on her backside in a whoosh of petticoats and skirts. When she had finally righted herself, Rose looked around for a sign of the man. But, he was again gone. Dammit. Figured that Clara's clumsiness would start rubbing off on her at a time as vital as this had been.

Rose sighed is resignation, and headed for the cafe. She had a feeling that someday she would be finding out just who that man was.

& & &

When Rose got in around nine, she was welcomed to a darkened house. She called for Clara several times, and when she finally realized that her little girl wasn't home, she became worried.

Where in the world was Clara?

& & &

Where in the world was Clara? Jack had gone to the beach several times today, looking for her, sure that she would be there, as she was most days, but she hadn't been, not once. He was getting worried. What if she hadn't made it home safely last night? He should have been more persistent on walking her home. Now, for all he knew, she could be dead somewhere, and her mother would never see her again. Or him. Or anyone that loved her. He fought down the strange panic that was filling him, and forced himself to calm down. She was a responsible girl, from what'd he'd seen, even if she had been acting out of character the night before. She could be in a number of places. Home, even. And she most likely hadn't come to the beach because she didn't want to see him. That would have to sate him for now. He'd start worrying if he didn't see her, later.

His thoughts drifted back to his busy day at the museum. So many people had been asking his opinion on one painting or another, that he barely remembered any faces. Except one. Well, it hadn't really been a face he'd seen, but more the back of someone's head. He'd been talking to old Miss Harrington about the art of dancing, when he'd felt someone staring at him. He could still feel it burning into his back. He'd turned around but had not found anyone looking at him. However, he had found someone standing not too far from him, with brilliant red hair. His eyes had widened. He hadn't seen anyone with red hair in all the years since he'd lost Rose. And there was something _very_ familiar at the way the woman stood, as she talked to the man that had consulted him on renaissance art hours before. She stood like she was at some fancy party, instead of an old art museum. Just like...

And then his attention had once again been demanded by Miss Harrington, and then to a group of people, regular visitors, calling for him in the next room. And although he had wanted to go over to that woman and ask her if she needed any help, just so he could see her face, he'd had no choice but to go to them. He had a job to do.

He was probably crazy for still thinking about her. She was probably that man's wife, and they probably had a dozen children. But, still, he couldn't help but feel he would be meeting her again someday...

**A/n: So, Jack and Rose have seen each other, they just don't know it. And no Clara in this chapter, but don't worry, she'll be back in the next one. I'll update again when I can, if I don't have school tomorrow I definitely will...but if not I'll try for sooner than a couple of months. Don't worry. I'm really glad to be writing this again.**

**R**

**e**

**v**

**i**

**e**

**w!**

**Please?**

**-Rory**


	24. Chapter 24

**Clara Dawson**

**A/n: Hey guys, updating again. I'm on a roll (sp?)...it hasn't been a month before I updated again! Yay! And in reference to Clara and Daniel _getting it on_ and they're not even engaged...well, think of Jack and Rose, and that _whole_ situation, and the times. What happened with them in general wouldn't have been acceptable, but it happened. I have a reason for everything. It will all work out in the end...and the sequel. Just wait, you'll see what I'm going to do. And as for Jonathan, yeah, he's annoying, and that's the point, but he's going to play a certain role in this later, too. Patience. And anyway, thank-you soooo much for the reviews, and your opinions. I appreciate everything...especially the way you guys don't mind pointing out something I may have done wrong, or something you personally didn't like...you're helping me move this story along, helping me make it better, and grow as a writer. I'll always be grateful for that. Thank-you. And now, before I do more of these _zillions_ of projects I have over my week of vacation right now, here is the newest chapter.**

**_La revisione o io trasmetterà un pacchetto... degli uccelli selvaggi dopo voi, per peck le vostre teste! _((Translation: It means "review or I'll send a pack of...wild birds after you to peck your heads," in Italian, more or less. Hehe.))**

**-Edited 2-**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything _Titanic_.**

**Chapter Twenty-four**

I woke up to bright sunlight in my face. I woke up to birds chirping sweet melodies from the trees. I woke up to a feeling of total peace. And I woke up in Daniel's arms. I lay there for a moment, content with just looking at him. His hair had grown a little longer since we'd started dating, and it only added to what was to me, his perfection. I wanted him to open his eyes so I could see their brilliant green depths smiling up at me. It seemed not a second after this thought passed through my mind, that Daniel was complying. He looked up at me, and his eyes were smiling. I smiled back, and leaned down to kiss him. For a few moments, there was only us and his room. But then his small clock chimed, and we both looked at it. It was nearly eleven o'clock! The thought that my mother must be worried sick, and that I'd better hurry home, briefly passed through my mind. But, I hesitated. What if she was glad I was gone? It was absolutely ludicrous, I knew, but I still could not help but wonder. I needed more time. I looked into Daniel's eyes, and as I knew our minds were on the same thing, I told him as much.

He sighed. "You can stay for the day, Clara, but then you have to go home. As much as I want to keep you all to myself, you know you need to talk to her sooner or later."

I snuggled down into the blankets, and laid my head on his chest. He was right, of course. But, for the time being, I just wanted to focus on him and nothing else. I wanted to forget. And that's just what I did.

& & &

All day at work, Rose was unable to keep her focus. Clara still hadn't come home. Millions of possibilities of the whereabouts of her daughter passed through her mind, and none of them were bright and cheery. Her daughter could be dead, or lying somewhere hurt, needing her mother. Her gut told her that she was wrong, but her mind was a whole other story. She put up with, and mostly ignored, Jonathan's frustrated remarks about her lack of enthusiasm, the director telling her to suck it up, and her fellow actors telling her how pale and dowdy she was looking, for more than six hours. Was she not allowed _one day_ to be a little bit imperfect? That's just what she shouted to the whole theater as they went over Juliet's lines for the hundredth time that day. And without looking at anyone, or providing an explanation, she stormed off the stage, and out the doors. She would deal with the repercussions tomorrow. Right now, all that mattered to her was her daughter.

& & &

Once Jack was out of work that day, he went to the beach. Maybe Miss Clara would be there today. He knew it was a long shot, but he had to go. He had a strange feeling that he wasn't the only one wondering where she was. When, once again, he didn't find her, Jack decided to take a little time to himself, and enjoy the scenery. He walked up to where the waves met the shore, and looked up into the light blue sky, watching the gulls battle to fly against the heavy winds. He loved how wide open the ocean felt. Like an untouched prairie might feel in the West. Free; full of opportunities. He had hated the ocean for so long, and yet, he was always near it. For all that time, it was strangely the only thing that had brought him any comfort, yet the most pain. The bitter with the sweet, he supposed.

He was so wrapped up in his own musings, that he didn't notice that another person had just stepped onto the beach.

& & &

Rose took off her shoes and let her bare feet sink into the warm sand. It had been so long since she had been to the beach, that the feeling was strange to her. She had to admit, she was a little afraid to venture on. To her, the beach had become as foreign as a desert to a dolphin. She was afraid of what memories hearing the rushing waves would provoke. And yet, she walked on. She had to find Clara, see for herself that her daughter was all right. She knew her little girl liked to come down here to sketch, so maybe this would be where she would find her. Rose had no idea where Clara went when she was down, besides their backyard, so this was her best bet. She felt like a failure for being unsure of her own child's whereabouts.

Slowly, the redheaded woman made her way towards the water. She suddenly had the urge to stand in the waves, and feel the salty sea air tangle with her hair. She suddenly had the urge to let the ocean wipe away all of her worries and fears, with its majestic powers over the human mind. For the first time in years, Rose wanted to be distracted from the problem at hand. But, just as she was about to reach her salvation, Rose stopped dead in her tracks. She squinted her eyes against the sun, and tried to make out the figure standing a few feet ahead of her, obviously in his own world. She took a few steps that were driven by curiosity, forward, and gasped. It was the blonde man from the art museum, she was sure of it!

Seeming to be alerted to another presence by her gasp, the man started to turn his head. As Rose saw his profile in the setting sun, she almost fell to her knees, as her heart started to pound painfully in her chest.

_Jack..._

**A/n: I was going to go a bit further with this chapter, but I decided to stop here, as this opportunity presented itself while I was writing it. So, till the next chapter, enjoy! And review...or...**

**_affronti la moltitudine di uccelli selvaggi! ((_Face the flock of wild birds! Muahahahaa!))**

**See you all soon**,

**Rory**


	25. Chapter 25

**Clara Dawson**

**A/n: Hey you guys, how is everyone? I hope you all don't think I've abandoned you or this story. I'm sorry it always takes me so long to update...but I hope you all know that no matter what, I would never abandon _Clara Dawson_. Out of all my fics, this one is my baby. And how could I ever do that to you guys? You're all the reason this fic is still going, and I thank all of you for supporting me, and the story. You keep me going, I love you all. Sorry to say, updates may still be far between...I won't lie, but I will try, like always, to get the time to update SOONER. Especially since its the end of the year...teachers are cramming me with homework before finals and SATs day in and day out...especially in Civics. Eck. Just bear with me, please? I know you all do, but I don't want to take any of you for granted. You're too important for that.**

**Oh, and I have some good news...I've been taking a writing test these last few weeks for a special writing school. It's so much work...you have to follow the directions so meticulously, and that means editing and editing and rewriting and rewriting things at least a dozen times. I officially have two of the pieces completely and totally done...and now I just have to finish editing the other two this weekend and send the test out on Monday. I am so nervous! I really hope I get in...it would be a miracle. They only select certain people they see with talent...and it would be SUCH an opportunity. I've researched the place thoroughly...and it sounds amazing. I'd work with already published writers, who would give me tips on the business and teach me new techniques...and by the time I'm done with the course (it'd all be done through the mail) I would have two manuscripts ready to send to an EDITOR! I'm so NERVOUS! But excited, too. All this work was worth it. Wish me luck! -nervous smile-**

**Ah, and I've been looking at colleges for creative writing, with the help of my English teacher. So far there's this under-grad one I'm SERIOUSLY considering...and if I go...that means I'd go my senior year. No regular high school graduation for me...but I think it would be worth it. No matter where I end up going or when I go, I'm ready to do whatever I need to do. That's good at least, right?**

**Well, enough of me talking, you probably stopped reading after the second word, lol. Sorry this was so long...I'm just so full of charged...excitement/nerves. Mhmm. Forgive me. :-)**

**Oh, and _Beckira_** **thank-you for the review...it jolted me into awareness that it's been TWO MONTHS since I've updated. Oh, my. And it was a lovely one, as well. Thank-you. And thank-you everyone else, as well. I love you all. Keep reviewing! The wild birds threat still stands! ;-)**

**Sempre,**

**Rory**

**Disclaimer: Own nothing Titanic. Okay?**

_**And here we go...**_

**-Edited-**

**Chapter Twenty-five**

Rose's hand flew to her mouth, and her eyes filled with tears. For no more than a second, she was unable to move, frozen to the spot with morbid fascination. Part of her wanted to see if it really was Jack. It looked so much like him...

Before the man could turn fully around and see her making a fool of herself, Rose turned and ran for all that she was worth. She ran as if her life depended on it. The life of her child, the soul of her dead lover. She ran as she had run through the damp hallways of Titanic the night of the sinking, looking for someone to help her save Jack. In her haste, and because of the strong wind, Rose's silk scarf flew from around her neck, and back towards the direction she was running from. She almost stopped to try and catch it, but couldn't bring herself to do so. Let the ocean have it, she had plenty more.

& & &

Jack turned, and just as he did, something flew into his face, covering it like a mask. He took in a startled breath of air and nearly choked on material. He peeled the thing from his face, and looked down at it. It was a woman's scarf, he realized with confusion. A nice one, at that. It flowed over his fingers like water. Then he noticed a sweet scent in the air._ Like baby's breath..._

His heart started to thump. Jack looked around the beach wildly for the owner of the scarf, but no one was there. He was completely alone. A strong wind blew then, and the scent became stronger. Jack looked at the scarf clutched in his hand, and brought it to his nose. It, too, smelled like baby's breath. _Just like Rose had_...

& & &

At sunset, I headed home. My heart was beating wildly in my chest and I had to fight the strong urge to run back to the safe haven of Daniel's house. I had to do this. But I didn't want to. When I got in, the house was empty. I was alone. Relief washed through me. I didn't have to face her, not yet. For a few minutes I just stood their, dumb with the release of tension from my body. I had to do something, or I would get myself all worked up again by thinking of the ordeal that soon faced me. So, I decided to start dinner.

It had been ages since I'd last cooked a meal, and it took me a few minutes to think of what I was going to make. I had just learned a new recipe for an omelet this afternoon from Daniel's mother. Why not try it out? My fingers had been itching to all day. So, I took out fresh eggs and began my task. And prayed I wouldn't burn anything. Just as I was adding the last of the spices, I heard the front door slam. My heart started to thump like a warrior's drum. My mother was home. All courage leaving me, I continued with the omelet.

The smell of cooking must have drawn her into the kitchen quicker than I could have imagined, because one minute I was turning to put the battered eggs into the pan for the second omelet, and the next the bowl was on the floor and raw yellow egg was dripping down my apron, as we bumped into each other. I knew things had been going too smoothly! Without looking at my mother, I bent down to pick up the bowl, and crack more eggs. The room was silent as I beat them into a soup-like state. One of us had to say something soon, or I would go crazy! So, with my back still turned to her, I quietly asked:

"Do you hate me?"

One minute I was beating eggs, the next I was in her arms. I could feel her chest heaving and her tears falling onto my hair as she squeezed me tightly in an embrace. Tentatively, I put my own arms around her, and rested my chin on her shoulder. She smelt like salt water. Just where had she been?

I pulled away from her, and took her in, as she did me. Her red hair was wind-blown and her eyes were blood shot. She had been crying before she had gotten home.

"Mother, what's wrong?"

I watched as she wiped away the tears with the back of her hand. "Nothing, sweetheart. I was just so worried about you. I've been looking for you all day. Where have you been?"

I could tell that she was hiding something, but now was not the time to ask. "I've been with Daniel and his family."

She looked relieved at my words. Surly she hadn't thought I was on the _streets_, I thought a little indignantly. And then I stopped myself. If it hadn't been for Jack, I very well _could_ have still been wandering the streets, shivering as I passed by sinister looking men. And after all, I'd never told her where I was going. She must have thought I was dead, knowing her. Guilty tears welled up in my eyes again. What was going on with me? Why couldn't I stop hurting her?

"I-I just wanted to be on my own. I didn't think you'd want me around. I-I just..." I stopped mumbling my explanation. Though I wouldn't meet her eyes, I could see the strain on her face, and felt it on my own.

"Do you hate me?" I repeated my earlier question. It was gnawing at my insides, refusing to relent.

The anger and worry suddenly left my mother's face, and as her features softened she pulled me into a hug once again.

"Clara, I want you to listen to me. I could _never_ hate you, sweetie. Never. You're my little girl, no matter what."

As she told me over and over that she loved me, I began to cry. I buried my face in my mother's hair, as I had as a young child seeking comfort, and let the tears fall. She knew why; we needed no explanations. All the anger and resentment and pain I had felt at my father's death was coming out. We silently rocked together and shared the mourning of a man that was never far from our minds. Suddenly, my mother pulled back and looked me straight in the eye. I'll never forget the way her voice trembled as she told me that she knew my father would have loved me, _did_ love me. I'll never forget the way her eyes shone as she told me that he wouldn't want us crying over him, but to remember him in happiness. That was the first time she had spoken of my father so openly; with so much emotion.

I had never felt so close to the woman that had given me life.

As we stood there, my mother and I, the fading sunlight snuck through the window. And as it shone on us, it made us glow. Somehow I felt that it was my father there with she and I, looking down and smiling. And as always, thinking of his girls.

& & &

Jack was thinking of Rose and the strange little girl in his dream. He had been unable to think of little else since finding that scarf. His eyes were haunted as he nursed a drink. He could still smell the baby's breath. The scent seemed to permeate the air in his house now. Maybe this was all a sign from Rose. Maybe this was her way of telling him that everything thing was okay. That she loved him. And so did their unborn daughter.

**A/n:** **So, what did you guys think? I'm really unsure of the Clara/Rose scene...it seemed a little too..._something_ to me. Can you feel that we're getting closer and closer to the Jack and Rose reunion, little by little? Keep reading, there's still a lot to come. :-)**

**Added A/N: So, I edited the Clara/Rose scene. What did you think? Any better? The stories been very emotional lately, huh? Wow, lol.**

**Love always,**

**Rory**


	26. Chapter 26

**Clara Dawson**

**A/n: Hello everyone, I'm sorry that it has taken me much longer than I planned to update. I don't have the internet at this moment at home, but now that I'm back in school, I have access to the internet during my study hall, so until I get the internet back at home, I'm going to update on here whenever I can. Lordy, my email box must have over a thousand emails in it by now! I wanted to make a reply to _Anonymous_, and tell you thank-you, and everyone else for being blatantly honest with me about what you think of my work, and my actions. No, I have not been very responsible with my updates for this fic, or many of my others for that matter, and I am sorry for that. And I know that sorry doesn't really go a very long way. But, I really want to thank you all for being honest with me, it's really the best gift you could give me, and this story. Without you guys, there really would be no Clara Dawson. I'm so sorry that I've made most of you loose faith, but I'm going to try and rectify that, starting now. Aye, you have no idea how good it feels to actually have access to the site again. Not too many more chapters left to go, but in the upcoming chapters, I can tell you there is going to be more than one surprise, and a lot of drama. I can't wait. I'm finally getting back to just simply doing something that I love because I love it. I've been so busy with work and my course…I've had no time to really do anything for _me._ Or you, for that matter. Anyway, thanks for the reviews you've kept sending me while I've been in hibernation. It really means a lot, especially since I haven't been updating, and don't really deserve it. I love you all, and thank-you again.**

**Just a note: I edited the previous chapter...the part where I thought there was a little something wrong with the scene between Clara and Rose. Let me know what you think, if you decide to go back and read it. I hope its better, I really tried on it.**

**And Bekira, what was the novel you were reading called? It sounds interesting…I'd like to read it. And it's flattering that it reminded you of my story. Thank-you so much. :-)**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter…I'm a little rusty at this, and writer's block doesn't help.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything Titanic. And that's that. I also own nothing Romeo and Juliet, that's Shakespeare's masterpiece.**

**-Edited 2-**

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

She knew it meant something. Rose had never believed in signs, but she'd be foolish to think that seeing that man more than once in the last two days _didn't_ mean something. The problem was she just didn't know what. Days passed, and with it the nagging sensation she got every time the image of the blond stranger came to mind. Was she crazy, perhaps? Wanting it to mean something because it could be connected to Jack? Jack was dead. She just had to accept that he was not going to miraculously appear on her doorstep one day. And that any images she saw of him were figments of her imagination. She had been seeing what she'd wanted to see in the man, it was that simple.

Her relationship with her daughter was getting back to normal. The tension that had been between them for days, had finally dissipated. Clara was diligently mapping out the scenery with Miss Russell, and looking well rested. The tension had been showing on both their faces.

Today, after a short leave of absence Rose was finally getting back to work. She was looking forward to it, even though she knew she was going to have to put up with Jonathan's complaining at having to put rehearsal on hold because of his red-headed co-star. At times it really was quite hard to work with the man. He was a prema-donna. When he wasn't dictating to everyone around them, they actually got some work done.

Before she went on stage to wait for Jonathan to emerge from his throne room, Rose went to say hello to her daughter. The young girl looked up in surprise at the sight of her mother.

"Mum, what are you doing here?"

"I'm not allowed to come by and visit?"

Clara smiled at her mother's teasing tone. "I didn't say that. Would you like to see what we have so far? We're really excited about it!"

Rose couldn't help but grin at Clara's enthusiasm. It was contagious. "I'd love to, darling."

Clara took a few sheets of sketched-on paper from Miss Russell, and handed them to Rose. "They're rather rough right now, but take a look at what we'd like to do. It'll take quite a while, but just think, the stage will look like another world when it's all done!"

Rose had to agree with her little girl. The stage really _would_ look like another world when the two females were through with it.

"Do you think you'll be able to finish it all in time?" Rose asked.

Clara looked to Miss Russell and smiled. "Mother, we can do _anything_ we set our minds to. We're artists, after all."

Rose was about to say something, when a caustic remark had her turning around to come face-to-face with a petulant Jonathan. "So, the damsel in distress finally decides to show herself."

"Much to my regret," she muttered under her breath. It felt good to get back to work, but Jonathan was a thorn in her side she could do without. How was she supposed to even _simulate_ love for him, when with every word or touch he made her shudder? Very damn good acting, that was how. And more discipline than she'd ever had.

Ignoring her co-star completely, Rose turned to Clara and kissed her forehead. "I'll see you at home, darling."

With that, she turned and walked towards the stage, not bothering to see if Jonathan followed.

Throughout the rehearsal Jonathan continued to badger her. If it wasn't a remark about how terrible she'd looked the last time he'd seen her, it was about her short leave of absence. Any truancy committed by anyone except him, and Jonathan considered it a cardinal sin. So much for his supposed _feelings_ for her. Right now he was acting as if he'd never offered to take her out and give her a night she'd never forget.

They were acting out the final scene, when Rose had had just about enough. How had puberty managed to completely and totally pass this man by? Talented actor he may be, but adult he was not.

"O happy dagger, this is thy sheath! There rust and let me-" She was just about to plunge the stage-prop knife into her chest when Jonathan yet again spouted a derogatory remark. Rose's iron control snapped. One minute the knife was aiming for her heaving bosom, the next it was flying towards the male actor's head. It hit the table inches from his ear, with a loud thud.

Rose hovered over him, her blue-green eyes blazing. She wasn't aware of how beautiful she looked at that moment. She thought Jonathan's eyes had widened only because of her sudden attack. But, it was also because he had just taken notice, for nearly the thousandth time, of how gorgeous she really was. _Why_ hadn't he noticed those pouting petal-pink lips until now?

"Listen very carefully, Jonathan," she bit out. "I refuse to take any more of your impudence. The only way you're to converse with me from now on, until the end of this production, is in rehearsal reciting your lines like a good little boy. Am I understood?"

Something flashed in Jonathan's eyes, but it was quickly gone when Rose's own flashed right back. He nodded curtly, and she moved off of him as if he were contaminated with the plague.

Rose looked around her and straight at the people that had been shamelessly watching the whole episode. "Show's over. Let's get back to the real one."

& & &

Jack Dawson was in trouble. He was a crazy man. What else could he be, when he was chasing after ghosts? He'd been back at that god-damned beach now at least two-dozen times in the last few weeks. Nothing ever came of it. He'd been half expecting another scarf to come out of nowhere and attempt to suffocate him again. He wouldn't mind being nearly suffocated, if that meant being able to smell her just one more time. Smell her again? Now he didn't just sound like a crazy person, but a dog as well. Right now he might just admit to being either one.

Work at the gallery was slow, which wasn't unusual for this time of year. People were too busy drinking cider and getting ready for all hollow's eve parties to want to spend time standing around in some stuffy old art museum. But, by Christmas time, business would start to pick up again. Tourists flocked around to see the special Yuletide exhibit the museum set up every year. It was world renowned, actually. That was surprising for such a small place. It probably had something to do with quality over quantity. Either way, he couldn't wait. The regular customers that visited everyday weren't enough. He needed something _more_ to keep him distracted so that he wouldn't have _any_ time to think of her. Or of his dreams, which had begun to become more frequent and vivid with every night that passed. He was drinking more often now, so he wouldn't be coherent enough to hear all the screams. Titanic, along with Rose, had begun to literally haunt him. Someone or something wanted to send him a message, and it wasn't giving up. He wondered if he would end up killing himself with boos before he ever received it.

& & &

It felt good to be whole. My life was picking up, and I hadn't felt this amazing in a long time. I had everything going for me: the past was laid to rest; I had an amazing boyfriend; my mother and I were now closer than ever; and I had the best job a girl of my age could ask for. I was going to love every minute it took to bring this scenery to life. And I was going to learn a new art form: painting. I had shared my painting mishap with Miss Russell, who now had me calling her Eleanor, and with a laugh she had assured me that she would teach me. By the time this woman was done with me, I was sure I would be well on my way to painting masterpieces. I had found a new role model. Eleanor was everything I wanted to be in the future and she had everything I wanted.

With the painting lessons she was giving me, I was surer now than ever before that I had a chance to go to art school someday. She was even dropping names of the best art schools in the world, let alone the country, that she thought I could possibly get into. Including the very prestigious one she herself had attended. Eleanor was a very bright and honest woman. She was not giving me false hope, and I thrived on her praise concerning my artwork. I was drawing better than ever before, too. If it was possible, I even loved it more. I was surprised with how fast the older woman and I had become friends. We were kindred spirits. Amelia would never believe it. We'd always thought Miss Russell strange, when we were younger.

It really flabbergasted me how much better life could get when you confronted your problems head on. The state of my life right now was living proof of that. And I hoped it would never end.

I didn't know just how soon it would.

**A/n**: **Okay, so I know it's short, but I had no idea where I was going at first. And I promise, I really am working on the next chapter right now. Really, truly. Do you guys think this chapter was a little rushed? It seems like it may be to me. Let me know, I would really appreciate it.**

**-Rory4**


	27. Chapter 27

**Clara Dawson **

**A/n: Hey guys, I'm back already. Isn't that amazing? I want to thank you all for your reviews so far. I'm going to rewrite the last chapter, but I wanted to post this first so you would have a new chapter to read. But, if you want to...you may want to go back and scan the last chapter a little later. I'm planning on adding a few more things to it...I want it to be not so rushed and short. **

**Anyway, enjoy the chapter...and please review! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything Titanic or Romeo and Juliet. Too bad, they are both amazing love stories...I hope I write something that great someday! **

**-Edited 2-**

**Chapter Twenty-seven **

My mother had been rehearsing all day. The director was positively anal about every little detail. In the end, it would all be worth it. But, right now I could tell my mother and the other actors would gladly sear the hair from his head if they were able. They were going over my favorite part of the play: the balcony scene. I must've read it at least a dozen times by now. And seen it, today alone, hundreds of times.

The director had had stand-in props brought in until the real things were completed, and right now my mother was standing on a chair, looking down at Jonathan. The look in her eyes said she would kill him, but her body language spoke of a young woman in love. My mother was such an amazing actress. Her passion for the craft shone through in everything she did. And it certainly showed how committed she was by still working with the overbearing Jonathan. Many people would have thrown up their hands and walked away by now. Not my mother.

At least his bouts of bad temper had ended. Just a week ago, he had been ruining rehearsal for everyone. That is, of course, until my mother attacked him with a knife. I've never seen anyone look more shocked than he had at that moment. It had been very pleasing. I'd again begun watching my mother rehearse everyday, just like I had when I was younger. I was here all the time for scenery work, and whenever I got the chance to, I would plop down in one of the empty seats, and watch a masterpiece in the making. I really thought this would be my mother's best work yet.

My work was done for the day, and as I sat watching two young lovers declare their feelings to one another, I thought of Daniel. I hadn't seen him much lately, and whenever I did, he always acted strangely. He seemed almost withdrawn from me. I couldn't understand why. It made me feel as if I had somehow done something wrong. I just couldn't figure out what. One minute he acted as if he were afraid to ever let me go, and then the next he acted as if he didn't care whether I lived or died. It was confusing me.

Since that night I only saw Jack every now and then, when we both somehow ended up at the beach. The only time either of us had mentioned what had happened, was when he'd told me how worried he'd been about me. I'd told him there was no need to worry anymore, and that was the end of it. However, I _was_ worried about him. He looked haggard, absolutely haggard. But, he _was_ drawing with me, which was amazing. We would sit by the surf with our feet in the waves, and just sketch. Every once in a while one of us would make a comment about the other's work, but other than that, there was silence until we were through. Then we would share what we had done. The other day, he had drawn a woman with a scarf caught around her feet. She looked a lot like my mother, but I just figured it was a coincedence. Maybe he was using me as a subject. I looked a lot like her, after all. And he couldn't possibly know my mum, so I never said anything. What would be the point?

I sat back in my chair and thought about my plans with Amelia tomorrow. We were going shopping for costumes. We were going to an all hollow's eve party in about two weeks. We were of age now to be invited, and I couldn't wait. I was hoping Daniel would be my escort, but with the way he was acting lately, I really couldn't be sure. If all else failed, Amelia's older brother could always be my escort. My heart fluttered in excitement. I loved parties, and this one was said to be the best and most exclusive one in town. My mother knew the hostess, Mrs. Sanders, and had attended her gatherings in the past. She'd told me the woman was an absolute perfectionist. No wonder she was married to my mother's director. They sounded like a match made in heaven.

Perhaps merely store bought costumes weren't good enough for an event like this. Maybe we needed something better. Like a hand-sewn one. I mentally noted to talk to the costume director, Annie, and see if she could do anything to help. And aquire an escort to the party, in return. I knew she didn't have one and I just happened to know someone that was available. It was time for Jack to start dating again.

I tried to picture what I would like my costume to look like. I wanted something beautiful and classy, with and old-world feel about it. But, what kind of dress could possibly look like that?

_"Ay me." _

_"She speaks! O, speak again, bright angel!" _

_"O Romeo, Romeo, why art thou called Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name, or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I'll no longer be a Capulet." _

_"Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?" _

_"'Tis but thy name that is my enemy. O, be some other name! What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet..."_

As the lines from Shakespeare's play swirled around me from the stage, I suddenly had an idea. Why didn't Amelia, Daniel and I dress in costumes from the renaissance? From what I'd seen of Annie's sketches, the costumes from the play were going to be one of the most beautiful parts of the production. Old world and classy at once. It would be perfect.

But, with how busy she was, would Annie agree to make them for us?

I just _had_ to get home and mention this to Amelia!

& & &

It was amazing, really, how much rehearsal had improved since Rose had tamed the dragon known as Jonathan. Things were going smoothly since the confrontation between the two lead actors, and right now they were getting ready to go over the final scene. _Again, _as always. But, having time to rehearse _two_ scenes in _one_ day at all? And no more mention of going on a date with him? It was a dream come true!

As the actors waited for the stage crew to change around the setting, Rose listened to a few of the women gossip about the latest topic: their director.

"I heard he's such a slave driver because one time his work was called 'unorganized'! Well, it sent him over the edge, and ever since then he's been _impossible_ to work with!" Betty Hughes chirped.

"Yes, but you _have_ to admit that anyone that _does_ work with him, gets a _brilliant_ reputation from his name alone!" Gertrude argued.

The other women nodded in agreement. Rose rolled her eyes. Some things never changed. Status was everything to these girls. _She_ wasn't in it for the money or the potential fame. _She_ was in it simply because it was something she loved to do. She wouldn't be putting up with Mr. Sanders or Jonathan if that wasn't the case. Those men would test the patience of a saint!

Eventually, as the director called for everyone to get in position, the small crowd began to disperse, leaving Rose alone. As she headed over to the table she was to kill herself on, she thought how tired she was. She really needed to rest when-

"Rose, look out!"

Rose stopped in mid-step at the shout, and never saw the beam falling from the ceiling...

**A/n: So, that was it. Did it seem a little repetitive to you, or is that just me being obsessive? I literally rewrote each paragraph like twenty times, and I'm still not sure. Let me know. Expect the next chapter in the next few days. Love you all. **

**-Rory4 **


	28. Chapter 28

**Clara Dawson**

**A/n: Hey guys, I want to say thank-you soooo much for all your reviews…I swear, I have the best reviewers in the world…you guys make me smile every time I read something from you. And thank-you, too, for your constructive criticism…you guys are really helping me out with this story.**

**Love and gratitude,**

**Rory**

**Ps: One more thing: I'm re-writing the earlier chapters (they were pretty horrible), so for Chapter One at least, you may want to go back and read it. I just added on a little something, so part of the time line of the story will make some sense. And something in a chapter that's coming up, as well.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything Titanic.**

**Chapter Twenty-eight**

When you realize that you're just about to die, your entire life flashes before your eyes. That's what happened to Rose when she looked up for a brief second and saw the beam. One moment she was back to the time when she'd been a little girl sitting on her beloved father's lap, the next to the first time she'd ever laid eyes on the man that would forever change the course of her very existence. Then she was watching herself bring her small daughter into the world, and suddenly she was at her child's fifteenth birthday party.

As she felt something heavy knock into her and she hit the floor, Rose's breath left her body in a _whoosh_ and the world as she knew it went black.

& & &

I couldn't wait to see my mother. I'd presented my idea to Amelia, and she had jumped all over it. We had been talking and we finally had a plan. If Annie agreed to help us, we would have my mother take us to the art museum she'd gone to for style ideas and help us create our costumes. My mother always knew what would look best on whom and we really needed her fashion sense here. It had always been exquisite and that's what we wanted to be the night of the dance. Now we only had to see if Daniel would go along with it. To tell the truth, that's what I dreaded most. I didn't want to hear him tell me no; it would be too much on top of everything else.

Amelia already had a date lined up and since he was one of her many admirers ready to fall at her feet, he would agree to absolutely anything she wanted. She was lucky she didn't have the problem that I did. She wasn't going steady with anyone, and so she always had _some one_ to escort her somewhere. If one gentleman couldn't make it, she simply asked another. But me, I had only _one_ gentleman to depend on and right now he was anything but dependable. It scared the life out of me, but with the way things were going, I could actually picture our relationship ending and see a future without Daniel. One that looked bleak. At one time I had been so sure we would never end, but right now I wasn't so very sure of _anything_ where the love of my life was concerned.

As Amelia and I headed over to his house, I wondered which Daniel my beau would be today: friend or foe.

& & &

Joan was the one that answered the door. When she saw me, the little girl's face broke out into a big smile. I beamed down at her and asked if her brother were available. She nodded and dutifully went off to collect him.

"Who is it?" I could hear Daniel questioning his little sister, as their footsteps approached the front door.

"You'll see! It's a surprise!" Was all little Joan would tell him.

When he stepped out onto the porch, our eyes locked. Something unspoken passed between us, and he pulled me into his arms without any words. I had missed him.

"You're right Jo, this is a surprise. Hello Amelia, it's been a while. Why don't you both come in?" With his arm wrapped around my waist, Daniel led the way into his sitting room.

"You've _got_ to hear what we've come up with, Danny!" That was Amelia, unable to contain her excitement. The idea of us being the only ones with custom made costumes thrilled her. If I couldn't sell Daniel on the idea, she would. When we were little, she had been able to get him to do anything. One time she'd convinced him that worms were a delicacy, and he'd eaten several. He'd lost the contents of his stomach after that one, let me tell you. As Amelia explained the plan to him, I let my mind wander.

What would happen to our little trio if something happened between Daniel and me? We'd all been together since birth and I couldn't picture it any other way. As if he could sense the direction of my thoughts, Daniel's hold on me became tighter, but he didn't look my way at all. It would have seemed like he wasn't paying me any mind, but for the movement of his arm. There it was again: his odd behavior. For a moment, I had let myself think that it was over with. It had been a foolish notion.

Unable to take it anymore, I stood up, having to use a fair amount of force to release myself from his grip. "I-I'm just going to use the wash room."

I hastily exited the room.

When the door was safely locked behind me, I went to the sink and splashed water on my face. I looked in the mirror and saw how tortured my eyes looked. I could sense there was something wrong, but not knowing what it was, was killing me. I sighed and went back to my friends. I had to concentrate on now and stop worrying about the distress I could feel coming off of Daniel in waves.

I purposely sat down next to Amelia. If I was going to concentrate, I couldn't be near him. When he gave me a questioning look, I couldn't meet his eyes. I know he sensed the tension between us, too. If Amelia did, she chose to ignore it. She was tactful like that.

"So, are we going to do it?" I asked, breaking the awkward silence.

The two friends looked at each other and then at me. Anxiety was pulling at me, and they were taking their sweet time in answering! Just when I couldn't bear it anymore, Daniel smiled.

His smile made my breath catch.

"I love it," was all he said.

And then all pandemonium broke loose as Amelia and I jumped up from our seats and ran to hug him. There was laughing and talking and embracing. And for a minute, there was nothing wrong with my world.

& & &

_She was standing in front of a preacher, dressed in white. Her delicate hands were wrapped in larger ones, warm and safe. It was finally time to say 'I do' for the first time in her life. She was going to be a wife…_

"Rose?"

Her name echoed, reverberating against the walls of her mind.

"Rose?"

The dream bled away. Her head began to throb.

"Rose, open your eyes."

She didn't want to open her eyes. She wanted to sink back into oblivion; obliterate the dull ache that was her body.

"Rose, can you hear me?"

Of course she heard him. How could she not hear that deep, commanding voice? Some one began to lightly slap her cheeks. She groaned.

"That's it, wake up."

She slowly opened her eyes. At first, the light was too bright to see anything. Then, as her eyes slowly adjusted, she could just make out a blurry figure standing over her.

"Jack?"

**A/n: I know, it's really short. But, I really don't have any more to say in this chapter. I had writer's block the entire time I was writing it, so I want to start afresh. A lot more will happen in the next one, which I'm writing right now. And I couldn't resist another cliffy.**

**-Rory4**


	29. Chapter 29

**Clara Dawson**

**A/n: Don't kill me! I've been gone for a little while again…but I'm back now. Happy _really_ belated Christmas and New Year! I've been busy with school and life and my new obsession which is writing contests. But me and deadlines equals bad. I need to work on that.**

**Eww I really need to get to finishing the editing for those earlier chapters, in case of new readers buttt…I never have time, and when I do, I'm a bit lazy. So, they'll get edited eventually. And when they do, I'll let you know.**

**And you guys, I know I say this a lot but thank-you for your reviews. Really. More than anything, you guys are the ones that give me more faith in myself as a writer, and enable me to go on to try other things (like writing contests) with more confidence and courage. You help me learn a great deal with your willingness to praise, and constructively criticize where it's needed. It's the greatest gift I could ever receive, and one day when I'm finally a published author…I won't forget that.**

**Love+Peace (I sound like a hippie),**

**Rory**

**Disclaimer: _Titanic_ does not belong to me in any way, shape, or form. Mmmkay?**

**Chapter Twenty-nine**

"Jack?" Rose repeated, her voice groggy. She blinked; looked again. It wasn't Jack bringing her back to the world of the living, but Jonathan. Jonathan with a very uncharacteristic look of concern on his face.

Her mind defogged. Of course it wasn't Jack. Jack was dead.

And her head hurt.

"What happened?" The last thing she remembered was getting ready to go over the final scene. And, she recalled with a frown, someone shouting for her to look out…

"There was an accident," Jonathan began.

"An accident? What kind of accident?" Rose immediately tested out the mobility of her arms and legs, and when she found everything in working order, albeit throbbing, breathed a sigh of relief. Then she noticed that she was lying on the floor, stage left.

"This man's a hero, Miss Dawson," said a gravely voice from somewhere above her. "If it hadn't been for him, right now you'd most assuredly be dead."

Rose opened her mouth to tell the man, whom she'd identified as the kind elderly doctor that had occasionally come down to the theater when some of the actors had taken the term 'break a leg' literally, that she wasn't planning on dying any time soon, when his words sunk in. What man was a hero?

"Don't try to sit up just yet," the doctor said, now kneeling on the floor next to her. "You may have concussion. Now, follow my finger with your eyes. Good. Do you know what year it is?"

"Nearly 1928. What happened?" When she voiced the question the second time around, her tone was stronger; more agitated. It demanded answers.

Satisfied that that she was alright for the time being, the doctor was happy to oblige. "There was a loose beam, my dear. Poor carpentry. It missed you by mere inches, thanks to our Mr. Rudders. Knocked you out of the way, he did. You may be a little sore from the fall for a few days, but tis nothing compared to what could have been."

Rose's eyes widened. The self-centered, egotistical Jonathan Rudders had knocked her out of the way of a falling beam?

She must still be unconscious. A spasm shot through her back. She winced.

Nope, not unconscious. Just crazy.

And suddenly, too tired to keep her eyes open. The last thing she saw as she fell into the land of nod, was the worn and wrinkled face of the doctor.

When Rose awoke hours later, she was somehow in her own home, with Jonathan sitting in an armchair nearby.

& & &

Once Amelia and I left Daniel's house, we parted ways, with my reassuring her that I'd get the costume sketches drawn up. I made my way back to the theater. If I was lucky, I could catch Annie before she left. Even after rehearsals were over, many of the behind-the-scenes workers stayed behind to finish up their day's tasks. I was eager for all this to work out. The night had to be perfect. I had a feeling my relationship with Daniel depended on things going flawlessly. Change was coming. I could feel it in my bones, no matter how much that made me sound like an old woman.

When I entered the theater, only a few lights were on. It was strange to see it empty and silent after seeing it filled with people and laughter all day. I made my way back stage, and immediately found Annie immersed in a sea of fabric, scissors at the ready.

"Need any help? I'm not much good at sewing, but I'm an expert with colors." Annie jumped at the unexpected sound of my voice. I smiled. She reminded me of myself when I was sketching: completely oblivious to everything around her.

"Don't _do_ that! Actually, you can be my mannequin for a moment. You're about the same size as your mum, aren't you?"

I nodded. "Pretty close."

"Then come stand here. And tell me what you want while I take your measurements."

Annie missed nothing. "Well, you know the party coming up? The one Mrs. Sanders is throwing?"

"Of course I do. It's the one I'm not attending."

"What if I told you I had a way you _could_ attend without being embarrassed at not having an escort?"

"I would ask you to elaborate, of course."

"Well, I know a rather handsome bachelor whom would be willing to accompany you for the night. Only, I have to ask him first. And for me to do that, I need your help with something."

"Did you ever think that artistry may not be the career for you?"

"Pardon?"

"Maybe you should be one of those types that wields and deals. You're quite good at it. But, you've got my attention, so go on."

"Well my friends and I wanted to create hand-made costumes. And since none of us knows the first thing about any of that, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind offering us your assistance. When you're available, of course."

"Well, I'm never truly _available_. This production is consuming all of my waking _and _sleeping moments. But, I suppose I could somehow squeeze you in. Only if you agree to put in some work of your own, that is."

"Of course! I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Good, now what did you have in mind for your costumes? Oh, I hope your mother can come after her accident today."

"Wait. What do you mean my mother's accident?"

Annie put a perfectly manicured hand to her Cupid's bow lips, her honey brown eyes wide. "You mean you don't know? I thought you would have been by your house by now. A beam nearly fell on your mother this afternoon, but-"

Before Annie could finish her explanation, I was running toward the Exit doors, all thoughts of costumes, dates, and parties gone from my mind.

& & &

The room was silent except for the ticking of the small clock on the mantle, and the soft sounds of Jonathan's deep, even breaths as he lightly dozed. In her chair. Why the hell was Jonathan here, in her chair, and why was she home when she was last at the theater? At least that's where she thought she had last been. Her mind was a little muddled. She groaned as she sat up and put a hand to her temple to massage it. More like scrambled.

"Jonathan!" He didn't wake up when she called to him; didn't even move an inch. Rose said his name a few more times, and when he still didn't respond, she blew out a frustrated breath. She didn't feel like she would be able to walk, but if it meant getting that ingrate off of _her chair_ then it would be worth it if her knees gave out from under her.

She tried to stand, and when her legs wobbled like she was standing on stilts, promptly sat back down. What had the doctor said? She may be sore for a few days? That was an understatement. With that option gone, Rose did the only thing she could think to do next. She grabbed a pillow from the couch, and winged it at the male actor's head.

He woke up with a startled yelp and his posture jerked into ramrod straight attention. He blinked a couple of times with that bleary fog that engulfs you when you first wake up, and then looked right at Rose, as if surprised she was alive.

"How do you feel?"

No explanation as to why the hell he was in her house, why the hell _she_ was in her house, but more of the agitating questions she'd been bombarded with when she'd first come to on the floor of the stage in the theater.

"Let's pass with the formalities, Jonathan. What's going on?"

"Does your head hurt at all, is your sight blurred?"

"Jonathan…"

"Wait, wait there's one more the doctor told me to ask…"

"Jonathan!"

"Rose, don't…"

"Jonathan, tell me what the hell is going on before I-"

"Dizziness! Do you feel any dizziness?" Rose paused for a minute at the animated look on Jonathan's face. He was really taking his new role as doctor's ignoramus assistant seriously. He looked so proud of himself for remembering to ask her if she was dizzy.

"Yes to the first, no to the last two. Now, will you please tell me what's going on?"

"I drove you here, and carried you in. The doctor said it was okay to move you, and he left me with a few instructions and an order to watch you carefully. He had to make a house call to that hypochondriac George Stone, and couldn't stay to monitor you any longer."

"Oh, is that all?"

He nodded.

"Well, I'm relieving you of your duties. You can kindly get out, if you don't mind."

"Look, Rose…"

"As I said, I do have a headache and it would most appreciated if you just-"

"I'm sorry."

The world spun on its axis. Rose stared at Jonathan Rudders, the man that made the word vain sound like modesty, dumbfounded. Rose had never been speechless before in her life. She had opinions about everything, and had no problem voicing them, but this time she had no barb to throw at her nemesis. Had he really just _apologized?_

Rose decided to go with eying him suspiciously. He wasn't trying out a new way to ask her out for a night she would never forget again, was he?

"For what?" She asked.

"Everything."

"What is 'everything' specifically?" She felt like her daughter goading Jonathan like this.

"Are you really going to make me say it? Let's pretend I never-"

"Oh, no Jonathan. You started this, though I've no idea why. What are you sorry for?"

"For being a pompous ass towards you, alright? Does that sate your spiteful streak, Dawson?"

He was serious, Rose realized. Dead serious. He was looking her straight in the eye and speaking the truth. It wasn't a come on, or in fun, but the God's honest truth.

Jonathan was the kind of person that would step on some one's toe and blame it on the injured party for being in his way. He never apologized for anything.

Apparently that had now changed.

"What brought all this about?"

Jonathan's gaze was suddenly tender. Rose was taken aback. Jonathan Rudders _never_ looked at anyone but himself with tenderness. That had apparently changed now, too.

Rose was even more surprised when he took her hand gently into his own. "I'm glad you're okay."

Alright, where had the real Jonathan gone? Was he hiding behind the curtains somewhere, silently laughing to himself as he watched his alter ego wow her?

She was about to make a reply when the front door burst open and Clara dashed her way into the room, a look of naked worry on her delicate features. Her eyes immediately fell on their joined hands. Rose guiltily pulled her hand out of Jonathan's as if a teenager caught steeling kisses.

"What in the world is going on? I heard you had an accident, Mum. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, sweet heart. The worst is passed. Jonathan was just sitting with me; the doctor told him to keep an eye on me."

At the mention of his name, Clara turned to glare at Jonathan. She didn't even like the _thought_ of him touching her mother, let alone the sight.

Jonathan cleared his throat and stood up. "I was just going. Rose, I'll see you soon. Clara, it's always a pleasure."

Rose didn't know what possessed her, but before he could leave, she grabbed his hand. She felt him tense as he looked down at her.

She smiled. "Thank-you."

He looked at her for a long minute, then nodded and walked out.

Clara watched all off this with a wary look on her face. She felt that she was missing something, but did she really want to know what it was?

She eyed her mother for a minute before sitting down, half trying to find answers on her face and half searching for any gruesome injuries she may have.

"Precisely what happened?"

With a sigh and more temple massaging, Rose told her daughter the tale from beginning to end. By the time she was done, Clara was as white as a sheet.

"Well, for once that man did something right," she breathed, shaken at the idea that her mother had almost been killed because of some one else's neglect. Didn't they have inspectors that checked for things like potential killer-beams? She was going to be looking over her head every time she stepped foot near that stage now.

"For once," Rose agreed.

There was silence as both females mulled over the events of the day. And then Clara stood up as if suddenly inspired.

"You rest. I'm going to pamper you tonight. And while we're eating dinner later, I have something to run by you. You're going to love it!" She shouted over her shoulder as she made her way into the kitchen to try and figure out what she could manage to cook without burning. Tonight she didn't want to have to clean up any messes. All she wanted to do was help her mother recuperate, and get her on board with the costumes.

There were so many preparations to make, and so little time to make them.

**A/n: Okay, so my ideas for this chapter started to wane towards the very end, as you can tell. I'll fix it later. Anyway, next chapter Clara talks to Jack about being Annie's date. Can't wait to see how that one goes. Hehe.**

**-Rory**


	30. Chapter 30

**Clara Dawson**

**A/n: Hey lo, all. I wanted to post another chapter while I've got the story fresh in my mind. And to be honest school is really getting to me right now, and I want to take a break, one I really shouldn't be taking but am going to anyway. Okay, so I had this huge paragraph about how I may not have a senior picture in the year book this year, but I took care of it today, and for once I actually like my picture that is going into the year book. In previous years I was either running late and had no time to get ready in the morning and so I looked like crap when my picture was taken, and last year, my junior year, I was sick! Puffy eyes and runny nose and all. Gross. Has stuff like that ever happened to you when it was time to take your school photo? Yeah, so anyway, I'm happy because this year I'm getting a year book and I'm happy with my senior picture. Watch, that'll only be until I actually see it in the year book, lol.**

**I was really upset the other day. I ranted and raved and well, you get the point. Here's like some of the previous author's note I took out (not that you care, I just think it's insane; I was like on a rampage): Things just suck right now. I mean, like everything. Even my phone got shut off and I don't have the internet right now and have to do all my updating in study hall where I really should be working on one of my Mid Term Exam projects. But, I'm doing that like 24-7 anyway, and want a break, so I take it in my study hall, all paranoid some one is like reading my work over my shoulder. Ugh, you all can just skip over this but I've got no one else I can vent to right now. I'm too busy making everyone believe nothing is bothering me and everything is perfect because things aren't really as bad for me as they used to be and I don't want to complain, but they're not too good either. I'm just getting so fed up I want to cry.**

**And that's why I'm going to stop my rant and start updating so I can put some of that emotion into my chapter. **

**Enjoy.**

**Your up and coming candidate for a straight jacket,**

**Rory4**

**Funny, huh? Told you I can be crazy sometimes. Aye, just reading that is making me want to break down again. **

**Nah.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing _Titanic_, and never will, so never try to sue me, 'kay?**

**Chapter Thirty**

After making dinner and feeling quite proud of myself because it came out perfectly, I sat down with my mother in the parlor and told her about the costume scheme while popping pieces of buttered bread into my mouth. Supper was the omelet I had once tried making but destroyed the night my mother and I made up after I'd virtually run away from home, and the bread and butter was a last minute added bonus just for me. I love bread and butter and any kind of bread known to man kind.

"So what do you think? It would give you a break from all that acting, you know. Please tell me you'll help, Mum. Please? _Please?_" I felt like a five-year-old again, begging for just one more ride on the roller coaster at the Santa Monica Pier. My mother used to take me there every summer, and I could never get enough of all the spinning and speed. If I could have, I'm quite sure I would have ridden the contraption until I threw up.

She pretended to think about it for a moment, but I could see the light of anticipation in her eyes. She was going to say yes.

Before she could formally reply, I jumped up and threw my arms around her neck. "Thank-you, thank-you, thank-you! This is going to be wonderful!"

She just laughed and shook her head, and we went back to eating. Now I could start up on the sketches, with her help. I was good at drawing, but I was terrible at things like knowing what cut would look best on whose body, and like I said, that's where my mother came in.

When my mother finally went up to bed, I stayed up. I had so much on my mind pertaining to this party that I was getting overwhelmed. Or perhaps I was making myself overwhelmed. That way I wouldn't have to think about the half hug Daniel had given me good-bye when Amelia and I had left his house earlier. He'd done it almost distractedly, as if he had other things on his mind that were more important than me.

Daniel was pulling away from me and I could not figure out why. The unknown is what tortured me the most. With the unknown comes the what-ifs and your mind makes up terrible scenarios with those what-ifs. Like, what if he's found some one better?

What if he _had_ found some one better, some one more suitable for him, and didn't have the heart to tell me because we were such good friends before we were ever beaus? What if he had found a girl that was taller and more elegant than me? A girl he would never have to offer his hand to, to help her off the ground because she'd tripped over her own feet? That girl would probably mold better with his character than I.

Daniel was neat where I had a tendency to be sloppy (one look at my art room, and you'd see what I mean), he was graceful where I was notoriously clumsy, and he was logic and fact where I was mysticism and speculation. At one time I had thought that we fit together so well because we complemented one another. Was I just deluding myself?

Oh, lord. Think of something else, Clara. Think about some one else's romantic drivel.

Like Annie's.

That reminded me; I had to speak to Jack. Oh, I really hoped he would agree. It may not be my place to coax him into dating again, especially when I'd honestly rather my own mother didn't, but I had to at least ask. Besides, I had made a deal and I wanted to live up to my end of it.

Why wait to find out what he would say? Why not just get out and ask him?

I had sworn to myself I would never sneak out again, but I was breaking that promise right now. It would do me good to get some fresh air and besides, I would be back before my mother woke. I left a note on the counter just in case, so I didn't feel like I was sneaking out even though I was, telling her that I had gone for a walk and would be back soon.

My photographic memory once again came in handy, keeping me from getting hopelessly lost, since I remembered the exact way to Jack's small house. This time there was no group of drunken men and no angry Jack dragging me along by the arm. At least not until I got to his house. Then I didn't know what kind of Jack I would have on my hands.

I knocked on his door and knocked again when it didn't open. After about five minutes of going through this process I figured he wasn't going to answer and turned to leave. And just as I did so, the door _finally_ opened.

The look on Jack's face when he saw me was not angry, but confused. "Clara?"

I flashed him a smile. "Hello, stranger. I need to talk to you. Do you have a minute?"

He raised a brow at me. "Couldn't it have waited until tomorrow? It's late."

"Well, I'm here now and it's chilly, so can you please just let me in? Unless you're busy, of course."

"Nope. Come in." I stepped past him and into the warm house. I first noticed two things: spirit bottles lay all over the floor and tables, and vases filled with baby's breath littered the fire place mantle. How peculiar. Well, at least I wasn't the only sloppy one.

"So, what's this all important thing you had to talk to me about, that made you walk all the way here in the dark?"

I smiled sheepishly at him. I knew he wouldn't be able to resist admonishing me in some way. At least there was no cursing this time.

"You're just that dear, Jack." I wrinkled my nose at him. "And drunk."

It was his turn to smile sheepishly at me. "I wouldn't say that."

"But I would. What's going on?"

He sighed and ran a hand through his wheat blond hair. "Just some personal demons, Clara. Nothin' for you to worry about."

I didn't believe him for a second, and wanted to ask him if those personal demons were those dreams, but I could tell he didn't want to talk about it, so I let it go. For the moment. "Well, you see I was invited to a party this Halloween. It's a very big to-do. My mother's boss is throwing it and nearly everyone will be there-"

"That's great. But what's it got to do with me?"

"I'll get to that in a minute. Every woman has to bring an escort, well she doesn't _have_ to but she'd rather sit at home than be seen at a party without one. And that is where I come to my friend Annie. She's a very beautiful woman, but also very picky. Used to the best. And that is why she doesn't have an escort. She couldn't find a decent gentleman anywhere."

He was looking at me narrow-eyed now. "And?"

"And that is where you come in. I told her I would ask you, Jack. And it's only one night…"

He shook his head firmly. "No."

I gave him my best puppy dog eyes. Mischief would be proud of me. "Please, Jack? For me? You see, we made this deal about costumes. Silly, really, but-"

"I said no, Clara."

"Why not? What are you going to be doing on Halloween? Sitting here drinking and feeling sorry for yourself all night, like I'm sure you were doing before I came?"

"That's none of your business, you're not-"

"What I am Jack, is a concerned friend. What is going on with you? You look as if you've been to war and back. And-"

"I said no Clara; can't you just leave it at that?"

"No, I cannot because you've yet to give me a valid reason for your refusal."

"I'll only ever want to be with one woman, Clara. And that woman is dead. I don't want-"

"Oh for heaven's sake. I'm not asking you to fall in love, Jack. And no one is looking to replace this woman you've been destroying yourself over. It's one night, and one date, and she's not looking to fall in love either," I glared at him and gave a 'humph' for good measure.

And then I continued, getting more and more frustrated with every word I spoke. "If you _must_ know, the real reason she is so picky is that she lost her husband to a child hood illness about a year ago, and no one will ever measure up to him for her. She's a woman who is looking for a _friend_ to escort her to a party, and all the men available want more than friendship. I know you won't. _And another thing!_ She's lost some one she loved more than her own life just like you, but she's not hiding away and—"

"Alright."

"And…wait. Did you say alright?"

"If it'll get you to shut up, yeah."

"I'm proud of you. It won't be the end of the world, Jack. And maybe-"

"I wanted you to shut up, remember? My head's pounding."

I shrugged. "It's your own fault, not mine."

Jack just groaned and sat down on his couch, pushing spirit bottles out of the way as he did so. I looked around the room, disgusted. The place was an absolute pigsty!

"You need to sober yourself up, Jack. I'll make you some coffee, if I can find it in all this mess, and while you drink it I'll tidy up a bit." It seemed like I was doing a lot of that today; taking charge over things while people recuperated from something or other. All the adults in my life seemed to be worse for wear lately.

Before Jack could object to my assistance, I began picking up empty bottles as I made my way to his small kitchen. I searched the cabinets for coffee, and while it brewed I scrubbed at the counters and some of the dishes as well. By the time I brought the steaming liquid out to Jack, he was slumped forward on the couch, more than likely passed out. I sighed. My work was never done.

"Jack!" I leaned over and shouted into his ear. I let out a hoot of laughter when he jumped and nearly toppled out of his seat. He looked at the coffee I shoved under his nose and thanked me, telling me he was fine and really didn't need any help. I brushed him off and continued straightening up until the entire house was no longer in disarray. I didn't mind at all; it kept me busy. Yet another distraction for my dangerous thoughts concerning Daniel.

When I was finally done I saw that I had missed the flowers. I felt Jack's eyes on me as I made my way over to the fire place. Well, at least now I knew what kind of flower Jack liked in case I was ever hunting for a gift for him. When I counted more than a hundred stems, I thought perhaps he liked them a little _too _much.

"Why don't I just spread these out a bit? You know, one by that rather dusty window, another-"

"Just throw them away."

I looked at Jack, confused. "Why?"

"Like you said, I'm being stupid. Time to let go."

"What do flowers have to do with you letting go?"

"It's a long story. I bought them when I was out of it, anyway."

I nodded. "Alright, Jack. Whatever you say."

As I dumped the vases out, I watched Jack. He was sober now, but brooding. Perhaps I should make a graceful exit and give him time alone. Sober time.

"Well, I think that I've intruded enough for tonight. I'll see you again soon, for costume measurements. Perhaps you can come by the theater with me one day. Have a good night, Jack."

"I'll walk you."

I stopped by the door and looked over my shoulder at him. "You're tired, I can make it myself, really-"

"I said I'd walk you, Clara."

I sighed and shrugged my shoulders, giving in. I didn't want another argument between us, when things were going so well. "Suit yourself."

The walk to my house was silent, no one but the occasional cricket made sound. Jack walked with me right up to my door, and then we just stood there, still not saying anything.

"Why don't you come in for a few minutes, and have a little more coffee. You look as if you're about to drop," I finally said to the still silently brooding Jack. I wished he would smile at least once, but I knew that right then it was asking too much. Maybe it would have been better if we'd never met. I was sure he had probably been dealing with his love's death just fine before I had to come along and dredge it all up again. I thought of my mother and her tears that night I'd asked her how my father had died. I had a knack for doing things like that.

He seemed to hesitate at first, but finally nodded, apparently agreeing with me about the whole about to drop thing. I unlocked the door and flicked on a lamp as I led him into our kitchen. "Don't worry about my mother. She had an accident at work earlier and was tuckered out. She won't wake even if the fire brigade whizzes by."

"I hope she's alright."

"Thank-you, she is. Or she will be within a few days, anyway."

"That's good."

"Mmm," I said distractedly. Where had my mother put the coffee?

"So, how long have you lived here?"

"For forever," I replied, turning towards him with tea instead of coffee. "Do you mind? It's all we have, apparently."

"That's fine."

I motioned for him to sit down as I handed him a cup. "Careful, it'll be hot."

"Thanks for the warning," he said sarcastically.

I grinned cheekily. "You're welcome."

"She used to smell like baby's breath."

I looked at Jack. "Who did?"

"You know who. I-I just wanted to be closer to her, crazy as that sounds."

I shook my head as I took a seat myself. "Not so crazy. Sometimes Daniel's scent is the only thing that can comfort me."

He laughed, but it sounded like it was a forced laugh. "Yeah, well, you're too young to notice stuff like that yet."

I tried to look offended. "Says you. I'll have you know my mother was seventeen when she fell in love with my father. Only two years older than me."

Jack didn't reply, and when I looked at him I found him staring at me in a watchful way. "Where is your father, Clara?"

I almost told him it was rude to ask, but then he'd shared his loss with me, so I decided to share my own. "I never knew him. H-He died before I was even born."

"I'm sorry. I know what's that's like. I lost my parents in a fire when I was fifteen."

"I'm sorry."

"It was a long time ago." His reply was distant; detached; terse even.

I frowned at him as I grabbed the whistling copper tea kettle and poured tea into both our cups. "Were you always like this?"

His brow furrowed. "Like what?"

"Closed up in yourself."

He looked down into his tea. "Not always."

I sat down again, staring thoughtfully at a wall. "I don't think my mother was either."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, she's always so lost in her thoughts. I see her sometimes staring off into thin air and I know she's thinking of him. She just looks so _lost,_ Jack. But, then there are the times when she's on stage acting, she's an actor by the way, and I see this passion in her, this light and I think that's the way she was all the time before my father died. Sometimes I want to be angry at her for the way she gets."

All of Jack's attention was focused on me. "Why?"

I looked away from him. "Because at least she got to spend some time with him. At least she knows the sound of his voice, the facial expressions he made, what he looked like. I don't know any of that, but she's always telling me how like him I am. She could be telling me about some strange man walking down the street, for all I know. I had nothing and she had that."

Jack tipped my chin up so I would look at him. "Sometimes having something and loosing it's a lot worse than never having it at all, Clara. Sometimes those memories are a curse, and not a blessing. Sometimes when you least expect it, when you think you've finally moved on and you're doin' alright, they come back and ruin everything; remind you of this hole you've got inside of you where whoever you lost once was."

"That's what I'm really afraid of."

"Afraid?"

"I've come to terms with the fact that I'll never see my father, Jack. Or at least I've tried. No matter how much I yearn to meet him just _once_, and I think I always will, I know it won't happen. What this is all really about, what I'm really afraid of is that I'm going to be just like her _and_ you if I ever loose Daniel. I love him Jack, and it's more than just first love no matter how much you may want to dispute that with me. I-I don't want to spend my life lost in memories. I-I don't want get the look of an empty shell on my face when I think of him-"

"Hold on, what makes you think you're goin' to loose Daniel? I thought things were goin' great with you two-"

I traced the top of my cup with a finger tip, trying to hide the tears in my eyes. "He's been…different, lately Jack. He's miles away. He's hiding something big from me and, and I just don't know what to do."

He tipped my chin up again. "You talk to him."

"It's not quite that simple, surely. It's hard enough to get him to even say hello, let alone tell me what's going on."

"It's up to you. But, if you really want to know you need to gather up all your courage and just ask him."

I sucked in a deep, calming breath. "You're right. Thank-you for listening, Jack."

"Hey, you've listened to me about a million times without complaint, it's only right to return the favor."

"I don't expect anything in return, you know-"

He put a finger to my lips, cutting me off. "I know."

Silence rained after that. I was busy admonishing myself for letting all my fears about Daniel come to the surface, and I'm sure Jack was back to his earlier brooding.

Jack swallowed down the rest of his tea and stood up. "Well, I think we both need to get some sleep. I'm gonna head home."

I nodded. "Sleep sounds heavenly."

I walked Jack to the door and just as he was about to open it, he stopped, and turned back to me. "Your father would have loved you more than his own life, Clara. You're a strong girl. Don't you ever forget that. Don't."

I nodded, sniffing and wiping away my tears before they could make tracks down my cheeks. "I won't, Jack. That means a lot."

He wiped away a renegade tear that had managed to slip down my cheek. "It's only the truth."

I was about to thank him again as he opened the door to leave, but when he smacked his forehead, I just stared at him strangely. "I forgot my coat."

"I was wondering why you hit yourself. It's alright, just go get it."

Jack brushed by me and went back into the kitchen while I hovered by the door waiting to send him off. Just as he grabbed up his coat, one that looked as if it had seen better days, and was about to put it on, I heard the footsteps creaking down the stairs.

"Clara, is that you? Clara?"

Jack and I both froze and looked at each other wide eyed, like criminals about to be caught in the act of robbing a house. My mother was making her way slowly but surely down the stairs, calling my name.

My heart began to pound with adrenalin. What was she going to say, to _think,_ if she saw me standing in our house, in the dead of night no less, with a strange, full grown man?

I was about to find out.

**A/n: _Lady Julie Snape_ has already figured out my MO. I love to torture you guys. Hmm, who knows when my next update will be…_maybe_ I should wait another six months. Hehe. What do _you_ think?**

**-Rory**


	31. Chapter 31

**Clara Dawson**

**A/n:**** You know, I really was joking when I spoke of updating again in six months. Hi, everyone! Long time, no updates, huh? I want to thank everyone who never gave up on me and kept reviewing, and also those who told me to update already, it's been too long! Also, I re-wrote chapter four completely, so if you want to check it out, feel free!**

**This chapter is dedicated to my amazing readers, and to all the poo-heads who assured me I was never going to update again. Your tactics worked, you amazing poo-heads. I'm updating!**

**And a BIG thank-you to my new **_**Titanic**_** beta, Bohemian Anne. You have no idea how much I appreciate your help, Anne!**

**No excuses. My life is a busy, busy thing, but a year **_**is **_**too long!**

**And a late Happy Holidays to everyone!**

**Disclaimer:**** Nothing of **_**Titanic**_** is mine. And nor is the name of the watch I use…that belongs to the **_**Gruen Watch Company**_**.**

**Chapter Thirty-one**

I have never moved so fast in my entire life.

One second, Jack and I were staring at each other wide-eyed and pale. The next second, I was running full-throttle towards him, not even checking my footing lest I fall, and grabbing his arm to shove him into the pantry with the broom and over-stock food. Shutting the door as quickly and quietly as possible, I buried Jack's mug amongst the sink dishes and took my seat again, trying to look nonchalant. I tried very slowly to catch my breath. It made me feel like I was suffocating.

"Clara, is that you?" My mother called again, as she peeked her head into the doorway.

"W-Who else would it be, Mum? What a-are you doing up?" Lack of oxygen was making it difficult to speak.

"I could ask you the same thing. I thought I heard voices," she gave me a searching look. "Are you feeling alright?"

I took a deep breath and let it out, disguising it as a sigh. Ah. Much better. "Fine. Just couldn't sleep. I'm too excited for the costumes tomorrow."

My mother went over to the kettle to make some water for herself. That was when I noticed the letter I had left for her earlier, still hanging on the refrigerator. Oh, lord. If she saw that, the jig was up! I had to move fast. Again.

"You know, I'm excited, too. It will be fun to design something. I've always thought I would be good at it."

"Don't I know that," I said as I inched towards the fridge, all the time keeping a hawk-sharp eye on her. "You've always tried to make small changes to my clothing. Telling me this would look better a bit shorter, that a different color. I've contemplated putting a padlock on my closet doors!"

My mother let out a small laugh. "We vary on what looks good and what doesn't, that's all. "

"You just don't like bright orange."

"It's a terrible color, that's why."

"That's your opinion. Bright orange happens to be _my_ favorite color." I reached slowly for the letter while my mother poured steaming water into a cup, and stirred sugar into the darkening liquid. I snatched the letter off of the fridge lightning fast, and hid it behind my back just as she turned around. She gave me a strange look at the huge, phony smile on my face. I only smiled wider.

Mum shook her head and sat down in Jack's seat. I sighed, hoping Jack wasn't claustrophobic. We would be here for a while. I crumpled the paper and threw it into the trash on my way to my stool.

"So, you told me why you were up," I said conversationally. "But, not why you were awake."

My mother looked a little uneasy as she sipped her tea. "I was dreaming."

I felt for her. I knew a little something about dreams rousing you from a good sleep. "Was it about your accident?"

She shook her head. "No, no. Nothing violent."

"Then why are you awake?"

Mum sighed. "To be honest, I was dreaming of your father."

"Oh?" I worried my bottom lip with my teeth, trying to hide my jealousy and be sympathetic. I knew how hard remembering my father was for her, but if _I_ could dream of him I wouldn't let myself wake up.

She nodded. "I've dreamt about him for years, on and off. Tonight was the first one I've had in a while, though, and for some reason I could see him so much more vividly than in any of my previous dreams.

"When I woke I couldn't shake the feeling that he was nearby somewhere. I had the ridiculous urge to come down here. And so I did. And then I heard voices…"

My heart stuttered at the mention of voices again. "It must have just been me mumbling to myself, Mum," I covered. And then I couldn't help asking, " Somewhere near?"

Mum nodded again and laughed at herself, tears glistening in her eyes. "Look at me, crying over a silly dream."

I put my hand on hers. "You miss him, Mother. There's nothing wrong with that."

"I thought I saw him the day of the accident, too. Jonathan told me I was calling some strange man's name. I vaguely recall it. I was delirious. But, now…"

I forgot about Jack. My mother was starting to speak more openly and less hesitatingly about my father lately, and I wasn't going to miss an opportunity.

"Will you tell me what he looked like again?" I asked wistfully. It has been so long since I'd heard it out loud.

My mother smiled and pushed her tea aside. "Maybe another time. I'm very tired. I should get back to bed. So should you, in fact."

She pushed away from the counter and walked back to the doorway. Then she paused.

"I see him in you everyday." And then she limped up the stairs. A minute later I heard her bedroom door softly close.

I had been looking for her to tell me eye and hair color, but that had been better. My eyes started to tear and I looked down, finding a hang nail very interesting.

Some one sneezed.

My head shot up and I looked around. It had come from the pantry. How odd. And then I realized.

"Jack!" I ran and opened the pantry door and he stumbled out, brushing dust from his face and sneezing again.

"Does anybody clean in that thing?"

"You're one to talk about cleanliness," I muttered before I began to brush off his jacket. "I'm so sorry you were in there for so long!"

"That's okay. I've always been one for cold, dark, small rooms."

"No need to rub it in."

He snorted. "I had no idea what hit me! Next thing I knew, I was standing in a broom closet!"

"Pantry," I corrected. "And good thing you had the good sense not to come out! My mother would have flipped, and then had you arrested, had she seen you!"

"Well, whatever it is, it's small."

"Are you going to leave yet? She may come back down any minute! There's no convincing her she's hearing things a second time!"

"I'm going right now." I walked him to the door again. He stepped out as soon as it was opened.

"Hey," I said, catching him before he left the porch. "I'm sorry you had to hear all of that."

Jack shook his head. "I don't mind. I can understand where she's coming from. Real familiar voice, too…"

"Maybe she sounds like me. At least you see now."

"See what?" He looked confused.

"That my father isn't really dead. He's still very much alive in my mother's heart."

Jack just looked at me. "What I'm trying to say, Jack, is that _she's_ not really dead, as long as you love her; remember her. Don't torture yourself so. You're not crazy."

He smiled at me now. "Thanks for saying that. And you _are_ crazy."

"That's not very nice!" I pretended to be offended.

"Don't worry about all that stuff with Daniel so much. I know what a boy in love looks like."

I gave him a small smile of my own. "Thanks for saying that, Jack."

"Don't mention it. So, I guess I'll see you for this costume fitting thing?" He asked.

"Bright and early Thursday. Party's the week after," I replied.

"Alright. Have a good night, kid."

Strange, but as I watched him walk away I almost said, you too, father.

"You too, Jack." I called quietly after him.

Perhaps all three of us were crazy, I thought as I cleaned up the kitchen and trudged up to my room. Love did that to people.

"No, the skirt needs to go up a little higher. Up more. There!" My mother and Annie were a fashion force to be reckoned with. Making clothes could have been their super power. My mother translated the sketches she'd helped me create, and Annie molded them into fabric.

"How am I doing with these stitches?" I asked almost helplessly. The needle I was holding made me nervous for the health of my fingers. I'd already jabbed myself three times with it.

"Just keep doing it like I showed you, and you'll be fine," Annie said dismissively, holding up a swatch of dark green fabric against a lighter shade.

I groaned. "What time is it?"

"Two minutes past the time you last asked, Clara," Annie replied.

Sigh.

How could Annie do this for a living? Stitching fabric together was so, so…tedious! Over, and over, and over again you stuck the needle through and then pulled it out. In, out. In, out. I was going to get a cramp in my arm. Amelia better get here soon. She was picking up feathers for our head wear.

We'd been at the costume making for four days now. Amelia and I both found as many errands to go on as we could, (In the name of the costumes, of course.) to get away from stitching. We were all working our tails off to get them finished by the party. We still had Jack's to do, and we weren't even half-way done with our own. Annie, the slave driver, was confident we would finish. I wasn't so sure.

I winced as I pricked my finger again. The end results had better be worth all of this!

"So, are you sure my mysterious date will show up tonight for our costume fitting? He better be as handsome as you say he is," Annie started to talk as she finished sewing a sleeve.

"What date? What man, Clara?" My mother was looking back and forth from Annie to me.

I had no idea what to say. My mind froze.

"Clara got me a date with a man she knows, for the party. From what I hear, he's blond and his name is-"

"I'm back, everyone! Goodness, who knew feathers could be so heavy!" Amelia grunted to herself as she lugged two sacks each full of a rainbow of different feathers, through the backstage door.

I jumped up to help her, thankful for the interruption. "He is very handsome, Annie, and he will be here. Mother, Daniel has met the man, as well. So, no need to worry. And Amelia, how many bloody feathers did you _buy? _Do you think we're going to the party as birds?"

"I'll have you know," She panted, as she dragged the sack I hadn't taken to a table. "I could not decide what color would look best with what. So, I got them all."

I shrugged. "I suppose we can make fans with whatever we have left," My eyes glanced over the heaping bags of feathers again. "Really, really _large_ fans."

Amelia slapped my arm, and swung her glossy black hair as she turned towards me, her just as dark eyes bright with excitement. "Do shut your mouth. Fans would be wonderful."

We traded barbs back and forth a bit longer, until I got a glance at Amelia's new Baguette watch. I had grabbed her wrist just to see how many more hours of torture we had to endure for the day, but when I saw the time I gasped.

All three females watched me as I stood up, dropping the half-done dress I'd been sewing, and dashed for my coat. I grabbed the pile of costume sketches from my mother, and pulled out one of the male counterpart to my costume.

"I have to go! I promised Daniel I would meet him at his house an hour ago, to show him his costume sketch! Oh, he'll kill me! I'll be back soon, love you all!"

As soon as the taxicab pulled up in front of Daniel's house, I paid the man, and made my way up to the front door.

I could hear the arguing from the street.

An uneasy feeling kicked to life in my abdomen. I froze in place, not sure I wanted to go any further. Something was wrong. Never once since I had known them, _never once_, had Daniel's parents raised their voices to one another. Could they have something to do with Daniel's behavior lately? I had a strange feeling the two were connected, but not caused by each other.

Dread filled me as I knocked on the door. I didn't want to go in there.

The volume of the shouting increased when the door was opened, and I took an involuntary step back at the vibes of hostility that washed over me from within. Daniel stood in the doorway, with bags under his eyes and his usually impeccably neat hair tousled. He looked harassed.

"Clara, you're over an hour late." His tone was almost tired. Tired of me?

"I know, Daniel. I'm sorry. I lost track of time, with all the work we've been doing-" Something crashed from inside the house. It sounded like shattering glass.

I looked at Daniel, worried. "What going on?"

He rubbed his brow. Something he only did when greatly upset. "It's nothing. Look, right now isn't a good time. You should leave."

He sounded like he was dismissing me. "I understand that I was late, Daniel, but do you really mean you want me to leave? Maybe there's something I can do to help."

I suddenly heard crying in the midst of all the yelling. It sounded like Daniel's sisters. He looked behind him, and then back at me. "You really need to go, I-"

He was cut off as both the girls came to the front door, sobbing, faces blotchy and swollen. Before Daniel could fully shut the door in my face, I bent down and held out my arms to Sarah and Joan. They ran to me and clung to my neck. I had no idea what was going on, and even if Daniel didn't want me around, I knew the twins needed me.

I looked over their tiny heads, and up at him. For a moment Daniel looked stricken, before masking it. He was hiding from me. When had Daniel _ever_ hidden from me? We knew everything about one another. I was so confused. This boy I was looking at was like a totally different one from the boy that had once asked me to be his beau, soul laid bare as he waited for my answer. I saw no trace of that boy, the one I loved beyond words, in Daniel anymore. This was a stranger standing before me. The Daniel I had known all my life would never send me away, dismiss me, try to slam a door in my face. Something significant in our relationship most surely altered at that moment.

Before, the signs had been subtle. Now, they were painfully, ruthlessly clear. Did he even care about me anymore? I had never once doubted that, for as long as I had known him. Now I was. It felt like some one had died.

The shouting inside died down, and a door slammed. Daniel looked inside once, and then sighing, came outside and closed the door behind him. He bent down and picked up the sketch I had dropped in my haste to hold the girls.

"We should probably take them to the park," he murmured. And then he simply walked away, without looking back to see if I'd follow. I cannot lie. It stung.

Sarah and Joan's sobs had quieted down to sniffles and hiccups, by the time we reached the park. I placed each one on a swing, and bent down to wipe the wet from their cheeks. I stepped behind them and pushed the swings, looking at Daniel as he sat under a shaded tree, examining the plan for his costume like it was the most important thing in the world.

I was afraid to ask. "What's going on, Daniel?"

He didn't look up from the sketch. "You know, this is going to be really great. I think green would be better on the sash here, though."

"Daniel, what was that all about?" I stared at him so intensely, I knew he could feel it.

"How much have you gotten done of your own costume?"

"Daniel, please…"

His head snapped up; his gaze burned mine like fire. "Leave it alone, Clara. I won't say it again."

Then he turned back to the sketch.

My heart stuttered; my eyes glazed over with tears I would not shed in front of Daniel. He had never spoken to anyone that way before. Especially me. Not even when we were small, and got into small tiffs. I stared at him for a moment, looking a bit pathetic, I'm sure. And then I turned my full attention back to the twins. They were quiet, and no longer crying. It was so odd, seeing them in such a state. Those girls were _never_ quiet. They were too full of spirit to waste time on silence.

I was growing so tired of all the silence. Jack may have been right about Daniel loving me once, but now I was convinced he no longer did. I was too weary to do anything more about it, for the time being. So many times he had been there for me, and when he finally needed _my_ support, he pushed me away. No relationship had a chance of surviving this way. I was sure Daniel knew it.

I stopped pushing the girls. "I'm tired, Daniel. I'm going to go home. You may want to come play with the girls," I knelt in front of them. "No more tears, alright? Only smiles."

They nodded, and began to pump their legs to swing. Daniel hadn't moved.

I walked up to him, and held out my hand. "Give me the drawing. Come by theater before tomorrow night for your fitting. We'll be there."

Daniel just stared at the paper for a moment, thinking about something. Annoyed, I bent down to snatch it from his hand, but he was faster, and grabbed my wrist. Next thing I knew, he was pulling me unceremoniously into his lap, and then crushing his mouth to mine. His kiss was hungry and dark.

I kissed him back for a minute, just happy to be close to him again. But, then I came to my senses and roughly pushed him away. I glared into his eyes, and deliberately wiped my mouth with my hand. I wanted to be kissed my some one else, not this person. I told him so.

"You're making no sense, Clara." He sounded tired again.

"Yes, I am. It's you who isn't, Daniel Treveali. And you shouldn't maul a girl in front of your sisters. Now, give me the damn sketch!"

I was now furious with the entire situation. I was going to break down crying soon. I couldn't decide which emotion to run with. I was hot, and now cold. My body was shaking with suppressed emotion. When Daniel still didn't move, just stared at me, I ripped the paper from his fingers and stood up, turning my back on him. I wanted to bump him off.

I bent down in front of the girls again, and kissed each on the forehead. "Be good, and remember: no tears!"

Before I headed back to the theater to get prepped for Jack's fitting, I decided to stop at my house. I needed to gather my bearings, and I knew my mother would be home for lunch by now, resting. Even though I knew I was too old to do so, I wanted to seek solace in her arms. When I stepped in the door, it was to voices coming from the parlor.

My brow furrowed. We weren't supposed to have any guests over, that I was aware of. I tiptoed to the parlor entrance, and peeked in. And what I saw and heard next just made my entire day complete.

Jonathan Rudders was over again. He was asking my mother to be his companion to the Halloween party tomorrow night. And she was accepting his invitation.

I felt betrayed.

**A/n:**** Phew, a lot just went down, huh? Just so you know, 'bump off' is twenties lingo for killing/murdering some one. So, next chapter is Daniel/Jack's costume fittings, and the beginning of the Halloween party. I've been looking forward to writing it.**

**So, I have a huge favor to ask all of you. I'm going to give everyone a chance to participate in the story. I need some help deciding what famous couples my pairs should dress up as for the party. That's where you come in. I'd love it if you guys would contribute your thoughts on who should be who for Halloween. Here are the pairs you have to decide on costumes for:**

**Clara/Daniel**

**Amelia/Her date**

**Jack/Annie**

**Rose/Jonathan.**

**And remember, it has to be famous couples…like, Romeo & Juliet, Lancelot & Guinevere, Elizabeth Bennet & Mr. Darcy. Those are really the only ones I could think of. I need something before or during the time period of the story, which is late 1920s. I'm totally excited to read your suggestions, if you decide to share them! I really do need help!**

**-Rory4**


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